THE      OLD      DOCTOR      IN      MIS      1_  I  B  R  A  R  v  . 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR: 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL. 


BEIXO  SKETCHES  OF  « 


THE  MOST  INTERESTING  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  RETIRED 
PHYSICIAN. 


NEW- YORK : 

H.  LONG   &    BROTHER,  121  NASSAU  ST. 
•1855. 


ENTKKED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 
H.    LONG    &    BROTHER, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  lor  tne 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


PUBLISHER'S    PREFACE. 

"  THE  OLD  DOCTOR  ;  OR,  STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL,"  forma 
one  of  a  series  of  family  books  now  in  course  of  publication.  The 
sketches  of  character  drawn  in  this  volume,  will  be  found  to  be  faith- 
fully and  gracefully  portrayed,  and  the  work  is  replete  with  interest 
and  incident,  while  each  sketch  points  a  separate  moral  as  well  as 
forms  a  tale. 

We  ask  the  public,  however,  to  read  the  Author's  preface,  and  then 
judge  for  themselves  whether  they  will  follow  him  through  the  pages 
of  his  journal,  still  confident  that  if  they  do,  they  will  derive  both 
amusement  and  instruction  in  the  performance  of  the  task 

H.  LONG  &  BROTHER, 

No.  43  Ann-street,  New-York. 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE. 

IN  presenting  these  sketches  to  the  public,  the  Author 
desires  to  state,  that  they  were  originally  written  as  a  source 
of  pleasing  employment  to  fill  up  the  vacant  hours,  which 
every  one  finds  occasionally  hanging  heavily  upon  his  hands, 
who  has  for  many  years  been  engaged  in  active  business, 
and  who  has  subsequently  retired  into  private  life.  The 
great  favor  they  have  met  with  from  the  public,  have,  how- 
ever, determined  him  still  further  to  occupy  his  leisure  by 
collecting  them  together,  revising  them,  and  publishing  them 
in  more  substantial  form. 

While  these  sketches  were  in  progress,  many  inquiries 
were  instituted  as  to  the  name  of  the  Author,  and  many 


2200612 


nr  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

surmises  have  been  put  forth,  which  he  begs  to  say  at  once, 
are  altogether  incorrect.  "THE  OLD  DOCTOR"  has  received 
many  letters  begging  him  to  gratify  the  laudable  curiosity 
of  the  inquirers  by  publishing  his  name  to  the  stories. 
However,  he  begs  to  assure  his  readers,  that  as  through  a 
whim  of  his  own — and  actuated  also  by  some  little  bash- 
fulness  and  nervousness,  as  he  did  not  know  how  his  modest 
attempts  in  the  field  of  literature  would  be  relished  by  the 
public,  or  whether  he  could  wield  the  pen  with  as  much 
ease  and  success  as  he  had,  for  a  long  series  of  years, 
wielded  the  lancet — he  determined  to  be  incog  at  the  outset, 
so  now  he  intends  to  remain  so.  He  does  not  wish  to  be 
bored  with  the  disagreeabilities  of  authorship,  nor  torment 
ed  with  the  gratuitous  and  disinterested  criticisms  of  friends 
who  at  present  are  as  ignorant  as  the  public,  that  he  has 
been  guilty  of  the  sin  of  authorship. 

The  Reminiscences  are  facts  which  have  occured  be 
neath  his  own  observation,  in  the  course  of  a  long  prac- 
tice ;  but  they  are  so  woven  together  as  to  prevent  any 
unpleasant  recognitions.  To  declare  himself  by  name  as  the 
author,  would  be  to  let  loose  a  hornets'  nest  about  his 
ears,  and  to  receive  all  sorts  of  prying,  and  perhaps,  im- 
pertinent letters  from  persons  no  way  connected  with  any 
of  the  parties  alluded  to  in  the  Reminiscences,  who  might 
fancy  that  some  of  their  friends  had  been  spoken  of,  or 
their  affairs  laid  bare  to  the  public  eye. 

Notwithstanding,  therefore,  the  numerous  letters  he  has 
received,  begging  him  to  come  forth  and  declare  himself 
in  propria  personce,  the  Author  still  prefers  to  remain 
UNKNOWN,  or  to  be  known  to  the  public  only  by  tho 
soubriquet  of  "THE  OLD  DOCTOR." 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

FAB* 

My  Birth,  Parentage,  Education,  and  Early  Struggles, 11 

CHAPTER    II. 
The  Insane  Family, 21 

CHAPTER    III. 
The  Sailor — a  Friend  in  Need, . 34 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Destitution  in  New  York  forty  years  ago— the  Forged  Clause  in 
the  Will, 50 

CHAPTER    V. 

My  House  on  Canal-street,  and  my  Neighbors;    a  Story  of  Ill- 
requited  Love  and  Suicide, 60 

CHAPTER    VI. 
Our  First  Servant's  Marriage  and  Death, 71 

CHAPTER    VII. 
The  Poor  Artist, 89 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
A  Mystery, 103 

CHAPTER    IX. 
The  Merchant's  Daughter ;  or,  Virtue  Rewarded, Hi 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    X. 

Mm, 
The  Forsaken 122 

CHAPTER    XI. 
The  Somnambulist, 132 

CHAPTER    XII. 
The  Actor — Love,  Madness,  and  Suicide, 145 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
The  Actress, 157 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
The  Death-bed  of  the  Spendthrift, 168 

CHAPTER    XV. 
The  Eccentric. — A  Character  of  the  Olden  Time, 182 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
The  Improvident, 193 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
A  Solemn  Wedding, 204 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
The  Death-bed  of  a  Miser, 226 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
The  Death  of  the  First-born  Son, 237 

CHAPTER   XX. 
A  Mysterious  Patient, 248 

CHAPTER   XXI    TO   XXVIII. 

Subject  Continued. 


JllttBtrattons 


I  THE  OLD   DOCTOR'S   STUDY. 

it.  irr  SURPRISE  ON  FINDING  THE  WIXE  BOTTLE  HALF  EMFTT 

1IL  IDWAED  MAKSDEN   KEEPING    BACHELORS   HALL. 

IT.  THE    DEATH    OF    THE    POOR    AB-'IeT. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR: 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL. 


INTRODUCTION. 


IN  writing  the  brief  sketches"  which  follow,  I  have  en- 
deavored to  beguile  the  weary  hours  which  old  age  and  com- 
petence bestow  upon  men,  the  earlier  period  of  whose  life 
has  been  passed  in  the  constant  anxiety  and  activity  of  busi- 
ness. No  persons  are  called  upon  in  the  course  of  their  pro- 
fessional career  to  witness  more  singular  scenes  than  are 
physicians.  The  lawyer  may  have  it  in  his  power  to  "un- 
fold much  strange  and  secret  history ;  but  in  dealing  with 
a  lawyer,  men  feel,  despite  of  themselves,  no  matter  how 
much  they  may  esteem  the  private  character  of  the  man, 
that  it  is  just  as  well  to  be  on  their  guard,  and  to  be  care- 
ful what  they  say  to  him,  or  how  they  express  their  feel- 
ings. Seldom  or  ever,  therefore,  does  the  lawyer  gain 
the  full  confidence  of  his  clients,  whatever  he  may  do  as 
regards  his  private  friends. 

The  clergyman,  in  the  course  of  his  professional  duties, 
is  often  called  upon  to  witness  scenes  of  unutterable  woe, 
and  to  listen  to  the  confession  of  a  lifetime,  concentrated 
in  one  burst  of  lamentation  and  contrition  ;  but  this  is  all. 

Day  by  day,  however,  does  the  physician  pass  hour 
after  hour  in  attendance  upon  the  bed  of  suffering  and 
death,  listening  to  the  complaints  of  the  weary  invalid ; 
the  querulousness  of  the  hypochondriac,  the  silly  fancies 

1* 


10  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

of  the  monomaniac,  the  wanderings  of  the  light-headed 
and  unconscious  sufferer,  and  oftentimes  to  the  horrid 
oaths  and  bitter  revilings  of  the  roue  or  the  dissipated 
man,  now  first  brought  to  reflect  upon  the  evils  of  his 
course,  knowing  his  guilt,  yet  unable  and  even  unwilling, 
to  form  resolutions  to  lead  in  future,  should  he  re- 
cover, a  different  life,  until  at  length  it  is  too  late,  and 
the  spirit  takes  its  flight  amidst  the  horrors  of  despair. 

All  this,  and  more,  is  the  physician,  who  has  a  large 
practice,  called  upon  daily  to  witness,  until  his  heart  in  a 
manner  grows  callous  to  the  mere  weaknesses  of  suffering 
humanity,  although,  generally  speaking,  and  I  say  it  to 
the  honor  of  the  cloth,  there  are  few  men  of  any  profes- 
sion more  open  to  the  calls  of  real  distress  than  the  large 
class  who  are  daily  witnesses  to 

"  The  woes  that  flesh  is  heir  to." 

However,  it  is  not  every  physician  who  enjoys  the  la- 
borious work  that  a  large  practice  entails,  and  too  often 
years  elapse  before  their  calls  are  anything  like  numerous 
enough  to  occasion  them  inconvenience,  unless  they  gra- 
tuitously visit  the  house  of  poverty  or  the  hospital  which 
charity  has  provided  for  the  suffering  and  destitute  sons 
and  daughters  of  affliction,  and  however  humane  may  be 
their  nature,  they  soon  weary  of  this  work  unless  it  is 
accompanied  with  at  least  some  more  remunerative  prac- 
tice. In  the  earlv  part  of  my  professional  career,  I  had 
my  full  share  of  this  hard  struggle  for  existence,  and  with 
some  account  of  my  birth,  parentage  and  first  entrance 
into  the  actual  duties  of  life,  I  shall  commence  my  first 
chapter  of  the  reminiscences  of  a  New  York  physician. 


STf?AY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  11 

CHAPTER    I. 

MT    BIRTH,    PARENTAGE,    EDUCATION,    AND    EARLY    STRUGGLES. 

I  WAS  born  in  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  in  a 
village  of  New  Hampshire,  not  a  hundred  miles  distant 
from  the  town  which  gave  birth  to  the  present  President 
elect  of  the  United  States.  I  take  pride  in  my  New  Eng- 
land birth.  The  New  England  States  have  been  famous 
for  the  great  men  they  have  produced ;  although  in  most 
cases  their  greatness  has  been  elsewhere  developed,  and 
their  fame  elsewhere  acquired.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
a  "  Cannie  Scotsman"  seldom  goes  north  to  reside  among 
his  native  heath  again  when  he  has  prospered  on  south- 
ern soil,  however  dearly  he  may  love  the  remembrance 
of  the  mountains,  and  glens,  and  burns,  and  waterfalls, 
of  old  Scotia :  so  the  mountains,  and  valleys,  and  the  ster- 
ile soil  and  romantic  scenery  of  New  England,  are  ever 
dear  to  the  memory  of  its  sons.  A  visit  to  the  old  home- 
stead brings  the  blood  of  youth  bounding  and  thrilling 
back  through  the  veins  of  the  aged  ;  but  seldom  do  they 
return  to  end  their  days  and  lay  their  bones  in  the  graves 
of  their  ancestors.  But  to  my  story. 

My  father  was  a  sturdy  New  Hampshire  farmer,  whc 
had  bravely  fought  through  the  wars  of  the  revolution, 
and  whose  proudest  boast  was  that  he  had  held  a  Colonel's 
commission  under  Washington,  and  had  once  been  spe- 
cially deputed  by  the  "  father  of  his  country"  to  a  post 
of  great  honor,  and  also  of  no  little  danger,  where,  in 
gallantly  defending  a  stockade,  he  had  received  a  musket 
ball  in  the  shoulder,  which  he  averred  had  made  him  sub- 
ject to  the  "  rheumatis"  in  that  part  of  the  body  ever 
since.  My  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  New  England 
Yeoman  who  had  gallantly  fallen  during  the  period 
which  "  tried  men's  souls."  His  death  had  occurred  only 
about  twelve  months  before  her  marriage  to  my  father, 


12  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

and  in  ten  years  after  this  marriage,  I  was  ushered  into 
the  world. 

So  it  will  be  honestly  acknowledged  that  I  am  descend 
ed  from  a  good  old  revolutionary  stock,  and  my  eldei 
brothers  and  sisters,  I  had  six  of  them,  were  cradled 
amidst  the  early  rejoicings  over  that  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence which  has  since  made  our  country  the  glory 
and  boast  of  the  world.  My  father  was  an  honest,  up- 
right hard-working  man,  but  with  his  large  family,  the 
somewhat  sterile  soil  of  which  his  farm  consisted,  did  not 
enable  him  to  accumulate  wealth ;  yet  with  the  assistance 
of  my  mother,  who  was  a  notable  housekeeper,  and  that 
of  my  eldest  brother,  who  at  the  period  of  my  birth  was 
growing  to  be  of  great  use  to  my  father,  he  managed  to 
make  both  ends  meet,  to  give  his  children  a  common,  use- 
ful education,  and  always  to  have  a  crust  and  a  sup  for 
the  poor,  and  a  place  at  his  hospitable  board  for  a  friend. 

Like  most  men  of  shrewd  sense,  whose  education  has 
been  limited,  my  father  placed  a  great  value  upon  scholar- 
ship, and  my  mother  with  pardonable  pride  thought  she 
should  like  to  have  one  of  her  sons  educated  to  the  pro- 
fession of  a  gentleman. 

Gentle,  pious  soul — her  inclination  led  to  the  church 
as  the  profession  in  which  she  would  have  chosen  to  see 
her  son  figure;  but  my  father  had  a  great  idea  that  a 
lawyer  had  a  better  chance  of  pushing  his  way  upwards 
in  the  world.  They  had  doubtless  held  many  secret 
consultations  upon  this  subject  before  ;  but  the  first  inti- 
mation I  received  of  the  destiny  that  was  in  store  for  me, 
was  on  the  night  of  my  eleventh  birth-day. 

I  slept  in  a  small  room  that  was  partitioned  off  from 
the  kitchen  where  my  father  and  mother  usually  sat, 
when  they  had  no  visitors  in  the  house,  and  whether  or 
not  I  had  indulged  a  little  too  freely  in  partaking  of  a 
large  plum-cake,  which  my  mother  had  made  in  honor 
of  the  occasion,  or  that  the  two  or  three  glasses  of  home- 
made currant  wine  I  had  drank,  had  made  me  unusually 
wakeful,  I  know  not ;  but  certainly  I  had  lain  tossing  in 
bed  sleepless  for  upwards  of  an  hour,  while  one  of  my 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  13 

elder  brothers  who  slept  with  me,  gave  ample  evidence 
by  his  heavy  breathings  and  the  trombone  tones  which 
were  blown  forth  from  his  nostrils,  that  he  had  long  been, 
in  the  arms  of  the  drowsy  god. 

My  father  and  mother  were  enjoying  a  cosey  chat  be 
side  the  huge  wood  fire,  (for  it  was  winter,)  to  which  I 
was  paying  no  attention,  however,  until  I  casually  heard 
my  name  mentioned.  Instantly  I  pricked  up  my  ears, 
and  inclining  my  body  upon  my  elbow,  I  endeavored  to 
catch  the  purport  of  the  conversation. 

''  Reuben,"  said  my  mother,  "  have  you  made  up  your 
mind  yet  as  to  the  subject  of  which  we  were  speaking 
last  night?  James  is  now  eleven  years  old,  and  as  he  is 
not  so  strong  and  hardy  as  his  brothers,  I  think  it  is 
time  we  should  follow  up  the  plan  we  proposed,  and  get 
him  into  some  better  school  than  he  has  yet  been  in.  He 
is  a  brave,  apt  scholar,  and  he  takes  to  his  book  extra- 
ordinary, and  I  guess  would  make  a  bright  minister. — 
What  say  you,  Reuben,  if  we  see  Mr.  Pearson  about  it 
to-morrow  ?  The  last  butter  money  I  saved  will  pay  his 
schooling  for  a  year." 

My  father  replied  in  his  slow  solemn  voice : 

"I  have  been  thinking  over  the  matter,  Sally,  and  as 
I  know  myself  the  want  of  education,  I  should  certainly 
have  no  objection  to  raising  up  one  of  my  boys  so  as  to 
fit  him  for  a  higher  position  than  his  father  has  been 
able  to  obtain ;  but,  Sally,  1  think  Isaac,  our  fourth  son, 
is  smarter  and  better  fitted  to  shine  in  the  world  than 
James,  who  was  always  a  puny  lad  compared  with  his 
brothers.  My  own  wish  would  have  been  to  have  made 
my  eldest  boy,  Joel,  a  scholar ;  but  we  were  not  able  to 
think  of  such  a  matter  when  he  was  of  the  proper  age, 
and  now  it  is  too  late — besides  he  will  have  to  take  my 
place  by  and  by  on  the  farm.  But  Sally,  my  girl,  we 
must  make  the  boy  a  lawyer,  not  a  minister,  if  we  want 
to  push  him  up  in  the  world." 

"  I  would  sooner  see  him  a  minister,  Reuben.  I  should 
be  right  proud  to  see  a  son  of  mine  in  the  pulpit ;  but  if 
you  think  a  lawyer  better,  I  am  content ; — but  think, 

2 


14  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

Beuben ;  James  is  such  a  weakly  lad  and  never  took 
kindly  to  farm  work,  like  bis  brothers.  He  will  never 
be  able  to  rough  it  out  in  the  world  like  the  vest,  and 
although  your  favorite,  Isaac,  is  all  that  a  mother  should 
be  proud  of,  take  my  word  for  it,  Reuben,  I  have 
watched  the  boys  as  a  father  can't  always  do,  and  I  be- 
lieve Isaac  would  sooner  be  a  farmer  than  any  other  busi- 
ness in  the  world,  while  James  is  in  his  glory  only 
when  at  his  studies." 

"  Well,"  replied  my  father,  "perhaps  you  are  right, 
Sally.  Let* it  be  James,  then.  I  will  see  Mr.  Pearson 
to-morrow,  and  now  let  us  go  to  bed." 

I  had  not  lost  a  word  of  this  conversation,  and  I  lay 
awake  the  greater  portion  of  the  night,  contemplating  in 
my  own  mind  the  proposed  change  in  my  career.  I 
neither  agreed,  however,  with  my  father  or  mother,  as  to 
the  choice  of  the  profession  they  had  made.  My  mother 
had  spoken  truly  of  my  fondness  for  books,  and  without 
having  the  least  idea  until  now  that  I  should  ever  have 
the  opportunity  of  following  my  inclination,  it  had  al- 
ways been  my  secret  aspiration  to  learn  to  be  a  doctor. 
With  this  view,  I  had  carefully  collected  all  the  old  medi- 
cal books  I  could  get  hold  of,  and  secreted  them  in  my 
chest,  and  I  was  never  happier  than  when  a  chance  holi- 
day gave  me  an  opportunity  of  studying  their  mysterious 
and  well  thumbed  contents.  Towards  morning,  I  fell 
asleep,  and  dreamed  that  I  was  driving  a  great  business 
in  my  native  village — that  all  the  neighbors  were  sick, 
and  I  was  the  only  one  who  could  render  them  relief, 
and  a  great  deal  of  other  ridiculous  nonsense. 

Nothing  was  said  tome  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning; 
but  about  noon  I  saw  my  father  and  Mr.  Pearson  approach 
the  house,  from  the  fields,  apparently  in  earnest  conver- 
sation together.  They  entered  the  house,  and  were 
closeted  with  my  mother  for  half  an  hour,  when  I  was 
sent  for. 

Mr.  Pearson  was  the  Episcopal  minister  of  the  parish, 
and  both  my  parents  belonged  to  his  church.  He  was  a 
worthy  man  and  a  scholar,  and  although  his  salary  was 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  15 

small  and  he  had  little  gold  or  silver  to  bestow,  he  was 
always  ready  to  speak  a  kind  word  or  to  do  a  good  ac- 
tion, and  consequently  was  much  esteemed  in  the  parish^ 
and  his  counsel  sought  on  every  important  occasion. 

I  was,  as  I  have  said,  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
my  parents  and  the  worthy  clergyman. 

"James,  my  dear  boy,"  said  my  father,  "sad  experi- 
ence has  taught  me  the  necessity  of  possessing  a  greater 
degree  of  school  learning  than  I  unfortunately  am  pos- 
sessed of;  and  now  that  your  older  brothers  are  big 
enough  to  attend  the  farm  and  help  me  to  earn  a  little 
more  than  I  have  hitherto  been  able  to  do,  it  is  my  inten- 
tion to  send  you  to  school  and  perhaps  to  college,  where 
you  may  learn  to  become  a  lawyer — perhaps  some  day  a 
statesman,  and  be  the  means  of  advancing  your  family. 
Mr.  Pearson  approves  of  my  plan,  and  you  will  go  to 
Concord  to-morrow  to  Mr.  Longworth's  school,  where 
you  will  be  prepared  to  go  to  college  at  the  expiration 
of  a  twelve  month." 

"Bat  I  don't  want  to  be  a  lawyer,  father,"  said  I. 

"  What,"  replied  my  father,  sharply — but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  my  mother,  who  said — 

"  I  knew  it  was  so  ;  you  would  like  to  become  a  cler- 
gyman like  Mr.  Pearson,  wouldn't  you,  Jarnes,  my  dear  ?" 

"  No,  mother  ;  I  am  sure  I  should  never  be  able  to  be 
a  clergyman,"  said  I. 

My  worthy  parents  appeared  perfectly  astounded ; 
while  Mr.  Pearson  stared  me  full  in  the  face,  as  if  doubt- 
ing my  sanity,  until  I  colored  scarlet  with  confusion. 

"  I  want  to  be  a  doctor,"  I  said,  passionately,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

Mr.  Pearson  was  the  first  to  endeavor  to  calm  me,  and 
some  whispered  conversation  went  on  between  him  and 
my  mother,  who  then  mentioned  my  fondness  for  books 
treating  on  medicine  and  surgery.  On  hearing  this  my 
father  acquiesced  in  the  conversation  that  was  going  on. 
He  was  quite  opposed,  he  said,  to  the  system  of  forcing 
a  lad's  inclination,  and  as  I  had  shown  such  an  early  pre- 
dilection for  the  medical  profession,  he  was  willing  to 


16  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

give  up  his  favorite  idea  of  making  me  a  lawyer.  My 
mother  acquiesced  in  like  manner.  Mr.  Pearson  thought 
thnt  it  was  the  best  thing  that  could  be  done,  and  on  the 
following  day  I  was  sent  to  a  school-master  of  good  rep- 
utation at  Concord,  whose  duty  was  to  be  to  prepare  me 
for  Harvard  University.  My  good  father  and  mother 
had  little  idea  of  Colleges  or  Universities,  or  they  would 
have  known  that  a  twelve  month  as  they  spoke  of,  would 
be  far  from  sufficient  to  fit  me  for  Harvard,  and  so  my 
preceptor  at  Concord  said,  with  a  smile,  when  my  mother 
intimated  as  much  to  him  on  the  following  day. 

"  Your  son,  madame,"  said  the  worthy  professor,  "  has 
talents  undoubtedly  ;  I  am  bound  to  believe  so  from  that 
intimation  of  his  favorite  pursuits  which  you  have  given 
me,  although,"  he  added,  with  a  srnile,  "  you  will  pardon 
me  for  observing  that  mothers  are  apt  to  be  partial.  But 
from  the  questions  I  have  put  to  him,  I  have  no  doubt 
he  will  succeed  in  life  and  do  honor  to  his  instructors. 
But,  Madame,  I  must  inform  you  that  his  means  of  ac- 
quiring education  having  been  hitherto  limited,  it  will 
take  much  more  than  a  year  before  he  will  become  so 
sufficiently  conversant  with  the  mere  rudiments  of  classi- 
cal learning  as  to  enable  him  to  enter  the  college ;  besides 
he  is  young,  too  young  to  become  a  pupil  in  Harvard,  yet 
T  think  if  you  consent  to  leave  him  under  my  care  for  a 
few  years,  I  will  ensure  his  entrance  into  the  college  with 
eclat;  aye,  and  his  certainty  of  carrying  some  of  the  col- 
legiate honors,  too,"  he  added,  looking  at  me  with  au  en- 
couraging smile. 

^My  mother  acquiesced  in  the  decision  of  the  tutor,  and 
my  father,  who  was  with  us,  but  who  left  all  these  ar- 
rangements to  my  mother,  seldom,  like  a  wise  man,  inter- 
fering except  in  matters  pertaining  to  his  farm,  also  ac- 
quiesced ;  although  during  our  ride  home  that  night  in 
the  market  wagon,  he,  two  or  three  times,  broke  out  into 
soliloquies  which  evidently  showed  that  he  was  mentally 
calculating  how  many  turnip  crops  it  would  be  necessary 
to  sacrifice  in  order  to  pay  for  my  fine  schooling,  as  he 
usually  termed  it. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  17 

It  is  not  my  desire  to  weary  the  reader  with,  dull  de- 
tails. I  shall  therefore  pass  over  the  few  years  which 
followed,  merely  observing  that  I  spent  four  years  under 
the  instruction  of  my  Concord  tutor,  and  then  entered 
as  a  student  in  the  college,  and  at  the  age  of  nineteen 
years  I  graduated,  after  having  gained  two  or  three  prizes, 
with  all  the  honors  of  the  University,  and  also  received 
my  Physician's  Diploma,  with  certificates'  of  my  skill, 
scholarship  and  principles,  from  the  professors,  as  well  a» 
a  general  certificate  of  good  conduct  from  the  head  of  tho 
University. 

Before  setting  up  in  business,  I  paid  a  visit  to  my  home. 
A  proud  woman  was  my  dear  mother  when,  with  all  the 
acquired  fashionable  demeanor  of  city  life,  which  I  had 
naturally  picked  up  in  Boston,  I  sat  down  that  night  the 
finished  college  gentleman,  the  admired  of  all  the  rustic 
belles  of  the  village,  and  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes ;  for 
the  staid  elders  of  the  village  could  not  conceal  their  ad- 
miration, approaching  to  awe,  of  a  youth  who  had  gradu- 
ated with  honors  at  the  University ;  so  simple  and  unaf- 
fected were  the  manners  of  the  New  Englanders  thirty 
years  ago. 

My  father  too,  good,  honest,  sturdy  yeoman  as  he  was, 
although  he  attempted  to  disguise  his  feelings,  could  not 
altogether  succeed.  I  could  see,  despite  his  psha's  and 
pretended  carelessness,  as  the  loudly  and  rather  too  flat- 
teringly expressed  admiration  went  round  at  some  happy 
repartee  or  joke  I  had  made,  that  the  good  old  man's  eyex 
twinkled  with  pride  and  the  muscles  of  his  face  worked 
as  he  listened  to  the  eulogies  passed  upon  his  son's  learn- 
ing and  his  wit  and  smartness,  by  the  elders  of  the  vil- 
lage, whom  he  himself,  now,  by  the  way,  a  justice  of  the 
peace  and  custos  custulorum,  had  been  used  to  treat  with 
respect  and  to  rely  upon  their  opinions. 

I  have  said  that  most  of  the  belles  of  the  village  had 
been  invited  on  the  night  of  my  arrival  at  home,  to  cel- 
ebrate the  auspicious  event,  as  my  mother  considered  it, 
by  joining  in  the  party  she  and  my  father  had  got  up  on 
the  occasion.  Among  all  the  fair  girls  there  assembled 

2* 


18  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

on  that,  to  me,  eventful  evening,  for  on  that  evening  I 
decided  on  one  of  the  great  events  of  a  man's  life—the 
choice  of  a  female  partner  to  share  his  woes  and  his  joys 
— there  was  no  one  who  appeared  to  me  to  possess  half 
the  fascinations  of  Susanna  White,  the  daughter  of  a 
neighboring  farmer.  Susy,  as  she  was  called  by  her  pa- 
rents, was  not  what  would  be  called  in  the  cities  a  beau- 
tiful girl.  Her  features  were  by  no  means  regular,  neith- 
er was  her  complexion  such  as  novel  writers  are  generally 
fond  of  describing  as  made  up  of  the  tints  of  the  lily 
and  the  rose  ;  but  there  was  an  expression  of  purity  and 
gentleness  in  her  countenance,  and  a  glow  of  health  in 
her  cheek,  and  a  happy  sparkle  in  her  large,  clear,  blue 
eye,  that  made  sad  havoc  with  my  heart.  However,  I 
am  not  now  about  recounting  a  love  story.  It  is  enough  to 
say  that  I  remained  at  home  three  months,  and  that  at  the 
termination  of  those  three  months — arrangements  having 
been  made  that  I  should  commence  the  practice  of  my 
profession  in  Concord,  on  the  following  week — Susanna 
and  I  were  married. 

A  snug  house  had  been  taken  in  the  town  which  was 
at  that  time  but  a  small  place,  and  as  my  father  and  I 
both  considered  it  essential  that  the  physician's  residence 
should  cut  rather  a  dashing,  showy  appearance,  the 
bricks  were  stained  the  deepest  red,  and  the  jalousies 
were  painted  the  brightest  green  of  any  in  the  place. 
All  the  ready  cash  my  father  could  spare  was  laid  out 
in  furnishing  the  little  residence  neatly,  and  I  had  taken 
especial  pride  myself  in  getting  a  large  showy  brass 

plate  inscribed  "James  B ,  Surgeon,  &c.,"  in  large 

letters  that  could  be  seen  a  hundred  yards  off.  This  I 
conceived  to  be  a  master  stroke.  I  was  never  tired  of 
stepping  over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  and 
admiring  its  effect.  Then  I  would  walk  down  the  street 
a  little  way  and  turning  shortly  round,  on  returning 
back  would  see  if  the  door  plate  was  likely  to  attract  the 
notice  of  persons  hurrying  for  the  services  of  a  medical 
man. 

For  a  short  time  my  wife  and  I  were  very  happy, 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  19 

living  on  love  and  hope,  two  very  pleasant  things  in 
their  way;  but  by  no  means  all  that  is  required  to 
maintain  a  married  couple  in  comfort,  even  when  there 
are  no  responsibilities.  For  months  I  remained  without 
a  single  call  for  my  services,  with  the  exception  of 
having  been  sent  for  to  extract  a  double  tooth  from  the 
jaw  of  an  old  lady  who  lived  two  miles  off;  for  which  I 
was  tendered  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  and  when  I  timidly 
requested  a  dollar  as  my  regular  fee,  I  was  told  that  she 
had  had  two  teeth  pulled  out  before,  and  that  was  all 
she  had  ever  paid. 

At  the  end  of  four  months,  seeing  no  prospect  of 
practice,  I  began,  despite  of  myself — although  I  was  of 
a  very  hopeful  temperament — to  give  way  to  desponding 
feelings.  The  little  cash  that  had  been  placed  in  my 
hands  by  my  father  on  my  wedding  day  was  nearly  all 
spent,  and  I  knew  my  father  with  his  large  family  could 
ill  spare  any  further  drain  upon  his  purse.  I  kept  up  a 
cheerful  face  before  my  little  wife  and  carefully  kept  from 
her  knowledge  the  low  condition  of  my  exchequer,  and 
listened  with  half  doubt  and  half  belief  to  her  hopeful 
anticipations  of  future  professional  fame. 

At  length  matters  approached  a  crisis.  My  finances 
were  reduced  to  the  last  sixpence.  What  should  I  do? 
I  asked  myself.  Should  I  apply  for  a  loan  from  my 
father,  or  brothers?  Pride  forbade  it.  After  all  the 
expense  the  family  had  been  put  to  on  my  account, 
should  I  become  a  helpless  burden  upon  them  ?  No,  I 
said  firmly — I  will  not  despair ;  something  may  yet  turn 
up ;  and  I  walked  musingly  home  to  glean  comfort  yet 
again  from  the  cheerful  voice  and  pleasant  smile  of  my 
wife. 

She  was  more  than  usually  lively. 

"  Dear  James,"  she  said,  "  do  come  out  for  a  walk  this 
evening,  the  moon  shines  so  brightly — and  James — you 
know  I  am  not  very  extravagant,  but  I  want  to  ask  you 
to  buy  me  that  sweet  new  bonnet  in  Mrs.  Dudridge's 
window — it  is  only  four  dollars." 

Four  dollars!  and  I  had  not  four  cents  in  the  world. 


20  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

Yet  how  could  I  dishearten  my  pretty,  confiding 
wife. 

"I  will  get  it  for  you  in  a  few  days,  dear,"  I  replied, 
"  but  I  have  paid  away  what  cash  I  had  in  my  pocket 
to-day;  still  we  will  go  for  our  walk.  Perhaps,"  I 
mentally  ejaculated,  "something  will  turn  up." 

Something  will  turn  up  !  What  a  vague,  but  what  a 
common  phrase.  But  something  did  turn  up,  and  out 
of  that  evening's  walk  too.  But  I  must  defer  the 
relation  of  the  "  History  of  my  First  Patient,"  to  another 
chapter. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FEOM  MY  JOURNAL.  21 

CHAPTEE   II. 
THE  INSANE   FAMILY. 

IN  FORCING  MY  WAT  INTO  PRACTICE,  I  AM  MADE  TO  OCCUPY  AN 
AWKWARD  POSITION  IN  A  GRAND  TABLEAUX  VIVANT,  WHICH 
LEADS  TO  A  TRAGICAL  FINALE. 

THE  evening,  as  my  wife  had  said,  was  truly  delight- 
ful, and  as  the  soft,  balmy  air  fanned  my  cheek  and  cooled 
my  heated  forehead,  for  the  various  conflicting  thoughts 
which  had  that  day  agitated  my  mind  more  than  I  had 
usually  allowed  them  to  do,  in  consequence  of  the  appa- 
rent hopelessness  of  obtaining  any  practice  that  would 
procure  even  simple  bread  and  cheese  for  my  wife  and 
myself,  I  gradually  became  more  composed,  and  endea- 
vored to  think  that  it  were  useless  and  unmanly  to  de- 
spair :  that  while  I  had  health  and  strength  I  should 
never  banish  from  my  mind  the  blessing  of  hope,  and 
that  things  could  not  always  remain  at  this  low  ebb. 

My  wife,  too,  was  in  gay  spirits,  and  expatiated  in 
glowing  terms  on  the  beauty  of  the  evening  scenery.  In 
sooth  the  scene  was  one  calculated  to  shed  the  relief  of 
calm  repose  upon  the  most  perturbed  spirit,  and  I  felt  its 
soothing  effects  as  I  listened  to  the  sweet  voice  of  my  fair 
young  bride,  who  directed  my  attention  to  the  gentle  low- 
ing of  the  cattle  as  they  sought  their  sheds  to  rest  for  the 
night ;  to  the  musical  tinkle  of  the  bells  softly  stealing 
on  our  ears  as  it  was  borne  on  the  breeze  from  some  dis- 
tant sheepfold,  and  the  joyous  chirrup  of  the  birds  as 
they  tuned  their  evening  songs  of  praise.  I  thought  that 
that  Providence  who  cared  for  all  these  would  not  leave 
me  and  my  pretty,  gentle  wife  to  perish,  and  I  felt  com- 
paratively happy  ;  although  I  still  kept  revolving  in  my 
mind  how  I  should  procure  the  bonnet  which  had  attracted 
my  wife's  fancy  in  the  milliner's  window. 


22  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

It  was  perhaps  a  small  matter  to  disturb  me  ;  but  I  ask 
any  young  and  loving  husband  to  picture  to  himself  the 
situation  I  was  placed  in,  and  though  the  old  bachelor  or 
old  married  man  may  laugh  at  me,  I  am  confident  that 
he  will  sympathize  with  me.  It  was  the  first  time  my 
wife  had  asked  me  for  a  favor  before  or  since  our  marriage, 
and  as  I  had  never  had  the  moral  courage  to  tell  the  dear 
girl  how  low  was  the  condition  of  my  finances,  I  feared 
she  would  take  it  unkindly  should  the  mere  fact  of  her 
having  asked  me  for  a  trifling  gift  be  the  reason  for  which 
I  chose  to  make  the  distasteful  avowal.  However,  there 
was  no  use  thinking  about  it,  and  I  strove  to  banish  the 
thought  from  my  mind ;  but  to  tell-  the  truth,  I  would 
have  given  half  my  prospects  of  practice  for  the  next 
year  (not  much  to  bargain  away,  by  the  by,)  if  I  could 
by  any  means  have  conjured  the  four  dollars  necessary 
for  my  purpose  that  evening,  and  I  mentally  resolved  to 
dispose  of  my  watch-chain  on  the  pretence,  (to  de- 
ceive my  wife,)  that  a  black  riband  looked  more  genteel, 
and  so  at  all  hazards  to  get  the  bonnet. 

This  knotty  point  settled,  my  mind  was  more  at  ease, 
and  we  prolonged  our  walk  to  perhaps  two  miles  from 
the  town,  when  the  fast  gathering  shades  of  evening 
warned  us  that  it  was  time  to  think  of  returning  home. 

We  had  proceeded  about  half  a  mile  by  another  path 
towards  the  town,  when  we  passed  by  a  house  which  for 
that  day  and  in  that  neighborhood,  had  rather  an  impo- 
sing appearance.  I  had  noticed  the  house  before,  the 
more  especially,  as  there  was  a  slight  shroud  of  mystery 
tjirown  around  its  owner,  who  was  reported  to  be  wealthy, 
and  who  resided  in  the  strictest  seclusion  with  a  3'uung 
lady  who  was  supposed  to  be  his  daughter,  and  an  old 
housekeeper.  They  held  no  communion  with  anybody 
in  the  town,  seldom  or  ever  quitting  their  residence,  and 
when  they  did  so,  driving  through  the  town  in  a  close 
gig  of  antique  fashion,  driven  by  a  man,  who  served  the 
family  as  gardener  and  out-door  servant,  but  who  did  not 
live  in  the  house,  and  who  averred,  although  many  per- 
sons doubted  him,  that  he  had  never  been  allowed  to  en- 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  23 

ter  it ;  all  orders  relating  to  his  duties  having  been  given 
him  by  the  housekeeper.  He  professed  not  to  know  the 
name  of  the  family,  and  as  they  procured  all  their  sup- 
plies periodically  from  Boston,  I  doubt  if  the  name  was 
known  to  anybody  in  Concord. 

Thus  a  great  deal  of  suspicion  and  superstition,  too, 
was  aroused  among  the  gossips  in  the  town  and  neigh- 
boring villages,  who  could  conceive  no  reason  why  these 
people  should  thus  hold  themselves  aloof  from  their 
neighbors — they  considering  this  to  be  an  unpardonable 
sin — and  the  consequence  was  that  without  any  just  or 
reasonable  cause,  the  family  was  held  in  ill  repute,  and 
hated  by  the  aforesaid  gossips,  who  had  possibly  never 
clapped  eyes  on  them. 

1  was  relating  all  this  to  my  wife,  as  we  passed  by  the 
old  mansion,  and  she,  with  woman's  capricious  and  super- 
stitious fear,  was  pressing  closer  to  my  side  as  she  clung 
to  my  arm,  and  urging  me,  with  a  slight  tremor  in  her 
voice,  to  hasten  home,  for  the  air  was  growing  chilly, 
when  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  shrill  voice  giving 
orders  to  a  servant,  and  telling  him  to  hasten  to  the  town 
and  send  the  first  medical  man  he  could  find  to  the  house 
immediately.  I  did  not  hear  distinctly  the  conclusion 
of  her  orders ;  but  in  a  moment  after,  the  old  man  already 
spoken  of  came  out  from  the  little  shrubbery  which  sur- 
rounded the  mansion,  and  was  proceeding  hastily  in  the 
direction  of  the  town.  I  immediately  recollected  the  ex- 
pression I  had  made  use  of  when  we  had  just  commenced 
our  walk,  "  Something  may  turn  up  !"  and  in  truth  there 
did  seem  to  be  a  great  probability  that  something  was 
about  to  turn  up  now.  I  called  after  the  man,  who 
stopped  and  inquired  gruffly  what  it  was  I  wanted  with 
him. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  I,  "but  did  I  not  hear  a  lady  desire 
you  to  obtain  the  service  of  a  physician  with  all  possible 
speed  ?" 

"  Well,  and  what  if  you  did  ?"  replied  the  man,  almost 
savagely  :  "  it's  well  you  heard  no  more.  Listeners  sel- 
dom hear  any  good  of  themselves." 


24  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;    OR, 

"I  was  not  listening,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  I  happened  to 
be  passing  the  house  with  my  wife,  on  our  way  home 
from  a  walk,  when  I  heard  the  orders  given  that  I  have 
spoken  of." 

"  This  is  not  the  usual  path  people  take  at  this  time  o' 
night  for  a  walk,"  said  the  fellow,  in  a  sneering  tone  of 
voice,  and  my  wife,  who  evidently  was  much  frightened 
with  the  rude  speech  and  the  strange  aspect  of  the  man, 
whose  face  was  half  concealed  by  the  coarse  red  stubble 
of  a  beard  of  three  or  four  days  growth,  whispered — 

"  Come  away  home,  James,  dear.  I  don't  like  the  looks 
of  that  fellow." 

But  I  was  not  to  be  so  easily  put  off.  I  felt  that  possi- 
bly here  might  be  something  that  would  prove  of  service 
to  me  now  and  in  the  future.  •  The  old  adage  says  ;.  "  a 
drowning  man  will  catch  at  a  straw,"  and  I  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  stand  upon  punctilio  ;  besides,  1  must  con- 
fess, I  so  fur  shared  in  the  general  curiosity  regarding  the 
residents  of  the  dwelling,  as  to  wish,  now  that  there 
seemed  a  possible  chance  of  satisfying  that  curiosity,  at 
least  in  some  degree,  to  see  the  occupants. 

I  therefore  again  addressed  the  man,  stating  that  I  was 
a  physician  and  that  I  possibly  might  answer  the  purpose 
required  and  save  him  the  fatigue,  and  what  might  be, 
under  existing  circumstances,  still  more  important,  the 
time  that  must  be  necessarily  occupied  in  a  journey  of 
three  miles  or  more  to  town  and  back,  besides  the  delay 
that  might  be  created  there.  The  fellow  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment undecided.  At  length  he  replied — 

"  How  am  I  to  know  that ;  you  may  be  a  thief  for 
aught  I  know  ?" 

At  this  uncourteous  remark  the  blood  rushed  to  my 
temples  and  I  could  scarcely  control  my  anger ;  but  I 
was  set  on  an  object,  and  then  the  fellow  was  armed  with 
a  stout  cudgel  and  was  big  enough  to  throttle  me  in  his 
grasp ;  besides  all  this,  I  felt  my  wife's  arm  tremble  as 
she  pressed  mine  and  clung  to  me  as  in  terror;  so  I  sub- 
dued my  rising  temper  and  blandly  replied,  pointing  to 
my  wife : — 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  25 

"I  should  have  thought,  sir,  that  my  appearance,  to 
say  nothing  of  my  having  this  lady — my  wife — under 
my  care,  would  have  been  sufficient  to  have  protected  me 
from  such  rude  and  uncalled  for  remarks.  I  reiterate 
my  words,  I  am  a  physician  recently  established  in  busi- 
ness in  the  town  of  Concord,  and  accidentally  hearing  that 
the  services  of  a  medical  man  were  required,  and  knowing 
also  the  value  of  promptness  in  such  cases,  I  proffered 
my  services  until  more  efficient  aid  could  be  procured, 
and  if  any  one  is  hurt  or  sick  in  that  house,"  said  I,  point- 
ing to  the  mansion,  "  I  certainly  think  that  they  would 
at  least  be  glad  of  my  temporary  services." 

The  man  hesitated  yet  a  moment;  then,  apparently 
assured  that  I  was  speaking  the  truth,  he  said,  in  a  less 
surly  tone — 

"  Well,  if  so  be  that  you  are  a  doctor,  I  see  no  reason 
why  I  should  have  the  job  of  trudging  to  Concord,  this 
time  of  the  evening ;  but  hark  ye  !  if  I  take  you  to  the 
house  I  won't  swear  that  the  old  housekeeper  will  let  you 
in.  However,  you  can  but  try." 

So  saying,  he  led  the  way  to  the  mansion. 

"  May  I  ask  who  it  is  that  is  taken  sick  in  the  dwell- 
ing?" I  said.  "Is  it  one  of  the  family  or  one  of  the 
servants?"  for,  supposing  that  my  services  should  be  ac- 
ceptable, I  thought  to  myself,  it  makes  some  little  differ- 
ence who  it  is  I  try  my  healing  powers  upon. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  family  or  the  servants,"  said 
the  old  man,  relapsing  into  his  former  gruff  and  rude 
manner — "you  will  know  who  it  is  when  you  learn  if 
your  services  are  required." 

Perceiving  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  got  out 
of  this  man,  I  passively  followed  him  to  the  door  of  the 
house,  where,  having  rung  the  bell,  I  found  myself  con- 
fronted with  the  lady  housekeeper. 

"  Thomas,"  she  said,  addressing  the  man  of  all  work, 
who  had  conducted  me  to  the  house,  "  you  are  soon 
back ;  dear  me" — at  the  same  time  fidgeting  in  her  hurry 
to  look  for  her  watch :  u  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have 
scarcely  had  time  to  go  to  town  and  back."  Then  look- 

2 


26  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

ing  at  the  watch,  she  exclaimed,  while  I  thought  I  per 
ceived  a  strange  wildness  or  vacancy  which  I  could  not 
understand,  in  her  countenance,  "  You  must  have  flown 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  It  brings  forcibly  to  my  mind 
the  passage  of  holy  writ  which  says :  '  Oh,  that  I  had 
the  wings  of  a  dove ;  then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at 
rest.'  Never  mind,  '  Tempores  mutanter,  et  nos  mutamur 
in  illis,"1  strange  things  happen  in  this  sublunary  sphere. 
Have  you  brought  the  doctor?" 

"He  is  here,  your  ladyship,"  said  the  man  whose  name 
I  now  understood  to  be  Thomas,  "  I  picked  him  up  on 
the  road." 

"  So  are  treasures  often  discovered  where  we  least  sus- 
pect them,"  returned  the  lady.  "  Enter,  my  good  sir, 
and  I  pray  you  visit  my  brother,  and  see  what  you  can 
do  to  allay  his  distress  of  mind — stay.  May  I  ask  in  the 
words  of  the  immortal  Shakespeare,  '  canst  thou  minister 
to  a  mind  diseased  ?'  If  you  can  do  this,  you  are  doubly 
welcome.  Lavinia,  show  the  doctor  your  guardian's 
apartment.  But,  who  is  this?"  said  she,  casting  a  glance 
almost  of  fury  at  my  wife.  "  I  sought  no  lady  confi- 
dant. I  have  enough  to  do  to  bear  my  own  sorrows 
within  my  own  breast.  Away,  madam, — away  I  say — 
nor  profane  this  mansion  with  thy  base  presence." 

I  knew  not  what  to  make  of  this  ;  but  that  the  lady 
who  had  been  designated  as  the  brother  of  the  master  of 
the  house  was,  to  say  the  least,  a  little  lightheaded,  I  had 
no  manner  of  doubt ;  but  a  desire  to  see  the  affair  to  the 
end,  notwithstanding  the  fearful  and  reproachful  looks, 
and  the  pretty  pouting  of  my  wife,  determined  me  to 
persevere. 

"This  lady,  madam,"  I  replied,  "is  my  wife.  We 
were  accidentally  walking  near  the  spot,  when  1  heard 
that  the  services  of  a  medical  man  were  wanted,  and  be- 
ing of  that  profession,  I  thought  it  nothing  but  right  that 
I  should  endeavor  to  be  of  such  service  as  may  lay  in  my 
power.  You  can  of  course  send  to  Concord  for  the  fa- 
mily physician." 

"Dear  sir,  it  is  not  needed,"  said  the  lady,  whom  I 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURAL.  27 

judged  to  be  about  forty  years  of  age,  "  your  apologies 
are  amply  sufficient.  Pray  visit  my  brother,  and  ad- 
minister to  his  needs,  and  meanwhile  the  lady — your  wife 
and  I — will  spend  an  hour  in  delightful  intercourse — the 
intercourse  of  congenial  spirits,  doctor ;  can  you  under- 
stand that?  but  no,  you  men  are  of  too  gross  a  nature. 
Lavinia,  my  love,  pray  show  the  doctor  to  your  guar- 
dian, and  tell  him  that  supper  will  be  ready  at  eight 
o'clock  precisely." 

Well,  thought  I,  something  has  turned  up  and  a  queer 
adventure  it  seems  likely  to  prove.  The  apparent  mis- 
tress of  the  mansion  is  "as  mad  as  a  March  hare ;"  but 
there  is  no  harm  in  her.  "  Dear  Susy,"  I  whispered  to 
my  half  frighted  wife,  "  wait  with  this  lady  below,  love, 
while  I  go  up  stairs  to  my  patient.  Remember  your 
own  words,  dear,  so  often  expressed,"  I  added,  "  'some- 
thing will  turn  up  when  least  expected.'  Let  us  hope 
that  this  strange,  unlooked-for  adventure,  may  be  the 
pivot  on  which  my  fortune  may  turn." 

My  poor  little  wife  acquiesced  much  more  readily  than 
I  had  anticipated,  and  as  she  followed  the  lady  into  the 
parlor,  I  ascended  the  stairs,  preceded  by  the  young  lady 
who  had  been  designated  as  Miss  Lavinia. 

She  was  a  beautiful  girl,  whose  age  could  not  have 
exceeded  at  the  utmost  eighteen  summers.  There  was  a 
strange  air  of  melancholy  about  her  which  ill  befitted 
her  youth  and  personal  appearance ;  but  she  said  nothing, 
contenting  herself  with  conducting  me  to  the  apartment 
of  her  guardian.  There  she  left  me,  gliding  softly  down 
the  stairs  with  the  grace  and  noiselessness  of  a  fairy. 

I  was  placed  in  a  strange  predicament.  I  knew  nothing 
either  of  my  patient  or  of  the  disease  I  was  called  upon 
to  prescribe  for,  and  I  now  thought  how  precipitate  had 
been  my  own  movements  in  not  having  ascertained  more 
particulars  before  I  had  ventured  thus  far. 

However,  since  I  was  at  the  door  of  the  sick  man's 
chamber,  it  was  no  use  regretting  that  which  could  not 
be  recalled,  and  I  gently  knocked  at  the  door.  A  very 
polite,  gentlemanly-toned  voice  bade  me  enter,  and  obey- 


28  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

ing  the  order,  I  turned  the  handle  of  the  door  and  step- 
ped lightly  into  the  room,  in  the  belief  that  I  was  enter- 
ing a  sick  chamber. 

What  was  my  astonishment  when  instead  of  serving 
an  invalid  in  bed  or  reposing  upon  a  couch,  I  beheld  an 
elderly  gentleman,  of  a  benevolent  countenance  and  sil- 
very hair,  sitting  upright  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  be- 
fore a  huge  mirror,  occupied  in  lathering  his  face. 

He  nodded  familiarly  to  me,  and  then  said — 

"  You  have  been  a  long  time  coming,  doctor.     I  was 
getting  quite  out  of  patience  and  had  commenced  shaving ' 
myself.     Now  you  can  set  to  work." 

I  was  perfectly  astonished.  Though  I  could  distin- 
guish the  general  appearance  of  the  old  gentleman's  fea- 
tures, I  could  not  gather  their  expression,  covered  as  was 
the  lower  part  of  the  face  with  soap-suds,  by  the  light  of 
the  solitary  candle  which  burned  on  the  mantel  shelf — 
for  it  was  now  quite  dark  out  of  doors ;  I  had  a  suspi- 
cion that  the  old  man  was  insane,  as  well  as  the  lady 
who  called  him  her  brother,  and  I  wished  to  ascertain 
the  fact  by  catching  his  eyes,  for  a  mad  man  with  a  razor 
in  his  hand,  is  by  no  means  a  pleasant  companion.  The 
old  gentleman,  however,  again  spoke — 

"Why  don't  you  set  to  work,  doctor?  Have'nt  you 
got  your  tools  with  you  ?" 

"  Really,  my  dear  sir,  I  fear  you  mistake — I  am  a  phy 
sician,  not  a  barber." 

"  Exactly  so,  and  that  reminds  me  that  the  two  pro- 
fessions were  once  united,  and  for  my  part  t  am  sorry 
that  they  were  ever  sundered;  but  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
doctor,  I  am  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy.  The  old  man 
whom  I  sent  to  Concord  after  you,  has  been  used  to  shave 
me ;  but  he  is  paid  by  a  committee  of  all  the  barbers  in 
the  State  to  cut  my  throat  on  the  earliest  opportunity,  in 
order  to  get  possession  of  a  secret  recipe  which  has  taken 
years  to  bring  to  perfection,  which  would  go  far  to  ruin 
their  trade.  You  see  I  have  not  shaved  for  a  week; 
couldn't  trust  my  own  servant,  and  would  not  let  a  bar- 
ber come  within  a  mile  of  me.  So  at  last  I  determined 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  29 

to  send  for  one  of  your  craft  to  do  the  thing  genteely.— 
So  to  work,  doctor." 

I  had  no  doubt  now  of  the  insanity  of  the  old  gentle- 
man, and  I  thought  it  best  to  humor  him ;  but  at  the 
same  time  I  was  not  without  misgivings  for  my  wife, 
who  was,  as  I  believed,  below  stairs  with  an  insane  per- 
son of  her  own  sex.  My  only  consolation  was  in  the 
thought  that  the  lovely  girl  who  had  shown  me  up  stairs, 
was  with  her — although,  how  such  a  beautiful  creature 
came  into  the  guardianship  of  a  madman  and  his  equally 
mad  sister,  and  why  she  remained  with  them,  was  a  mys- 
tery to  me.  However,  anxious  to  get  away  as  soon  as 
possible,  I  set  myself  to  work  to  rasp  away  the  field  of 
stubble  which  had  accumulated  in,  as  the  old  gentleman 
truly  said,  at  least  a  week's  growth. 

It  was  rather  hazardous  work  as  I  was  not  accustomed 
to  it,  and  I  was  fearful  of  gashing  the  face  of  my  patient; 
but  at  length  I  flattered  myself  that,  considering  the 
feeble  light  and  my  inexperience,  I  had  succeeded  tolera- 
bly well — so  taking  the  napkin  from  beneath  the  old 
gentleman's  chin,  I  declared  my  task  finished. 

He  jumped  from  his  chair,  and  passing  his  hand  over 
his  face,  shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  declared 
that  I  had  made  him  my  friend  for  life,  and  that  under 
my  tonsorial  care,  he  should  feel  himself  perfectly  safe 
from  the  machinations  of  his  enemies.  "  And,  by  the 
way,  doctor,  you  must  take  your  fee,"  he  added. 

So  saying,  he  slipped  five  five  dollar  gold  pieces  into  my 
hand,  and  courteously  showed  me  to  the  door,  bidding 
me  as  I  left  the  room,  not  to  disclose  his  secret — which, 
by  the  by,  he  had  not  communicated  to  me. 

I  at  first  felt  some  little  hesitation  in  taking  the  fee, 
and  under  other  circumstances  should  not  have  done  so ; 
but  I  recollected  my  straitened  circumstances,  and  the 
vision  of  the  bonnet  in  the  milliner's  window  rose  in  my 
imagination,  and  I  determined  to  keep  the  money ;  be- 
sides, although  engaged  on  a  ridiculous  operation  for  a 
physician  to  undertake,  I  had  been  regularly  called  to 
visit  a  patient,  and  that  argument  stifled  any  compunc- 


30  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

tion  I  might  have  felt.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  I  met 
the  young  lady  before  spoken  of,  and  anxious  as  I  was 
to  get  back  to  my  wife,  curiosity  compelled  me  to  stop 
and  address  her,  in  the  hope  to  gain  some  clue  as  to  the 
name  and  circumstances  of  her  guardian,  and  the  cause 
of  her  being  placed  under  such  strange  guardianship.  It 
was  a  difficult  subject  to  address  a  stranger  upon,  and 
that  stranger  a  young  and  beautiful  female.  She  might, 
I  thought,  consider  that  I  was  prying  impertinently  into 
what  did  not  concern  me ;  but  while  I  was  cogitating 
upon  the  matter,  the  young  lady  herself  saved  me  the 
trouble  of  opening  a  conversation,  by  advancing  towards 
me  and  anxiously  inquiring  how  I  had  left  her  guardian, 
and  whether  I  thought  the  gold  mines  would  prove  a 
fortunate  speculation.  More  matter  of  astonishment! 
thought  I.  Surely  this  beautiful  young  creature  cannot 
be  afflicted  with  the  same  disease  as  her  guardian  and  his 
sister.  I  looked  earnestly  at  her,  and  thought  I  detected 
a  strange,  dreamy  wildness  in  her  large  blue  eyes,  as  she 
looked  anxiously,  full  in  my  face,  awaiting  an  answer. 

"  I  left  your  guardian  in  good  health,"  I  replied  ;  "  and 
really  he  said  nothing  to  me  of  any  gold  mines." 

"  Then  I  breathe  easier,"  she  responded.  "  Do  you 
know  that  I  feared  you  were  an  emissary  from  the  king 
of  Siam,  who  is  sadly  envious  of  my  guardian  in  conse- 
quence of  his  laying  claims,  on  my  account,  to  valuable 
gold  mines  in  that  country ;  but  now  I  perceive  I  was 
mistaken.  You  have  no  turban,  and  wear  no  beard. — 
Perhaps,"  she  hastily  added,  "you  are  a  barber,  in  which 
case  my  poor  guardian  is  lost." 

"  I  am  not  a  barber,"  I  replied,  smilingly.  "  although, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  lately  performed  a  shaving  opera- 
tion in  a  double  sense,"  (alluding  to  the  $25.) 

"  Ha !  then  all  is  lost.  There  is  blood  on  your  hand," 
(a  spot  of  blood  from  a  slight  cut  had  actually,  as  1  per- 
ceived, stained  one  of  my  fingers.)  "  Thomas,  Thomas," 
she  shrieked,  "  this  man  has  cut  your  master's  throat ; 
set  the  dogs  upon  him.  Help — murder !  help !" 

I  endeavored  to  calm  the  girl;  but  in  a  few  moments 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  31 

a  huge  mastiff  came  bounding  into  the  hall,  harking  and 
growling  fearfully,  and  it  was  with  only  the  utmost  ef- 
forts by  a  vigorous  use  of  a  heavy  cane  that  I  could  keep 
him  at  bay.  This  was  not  all ;  for  while  engaged  in 
this  by  no  means  pleasant  exercise,  the  redoubtable 
Thomas  appeared  with  a  loaded  blunderbuss  in  his  hand, 
which  he  pointed  towards  me,  and  seemed  much  inclined 
to  obey  his  young  mistress's  mandates,  and  to  fire  at  me, 
while  from  a  side-door  appeared  the  infuriated  house- 
keeper, as  Thomas  had  called  her,  dragging  my  fainting 
wife  after  her,  and  declaring  that  she  was  an  accomplice 
of  thieves  and  cut-throats,  who  had  conspired  to  rob  the 
house,  and  murder  the  inmates. 

Here  was  a  pretty  tableau  for  a  young  physician  to 
figure  in,  in  this  his  first  endeavour  to  get  into  practice. 
What  would  have  been  the  result  I  cannot  say  ;  proba- 
bly I  should  have  been  murdered  by  the  man,  or  torn  in 
pieces  by  the  infuriated  dog,  who  appeared  to  be  as  mad 
as  the  rest,  had  not  the  master  of  the  house  descended 
the  stairs  attired  in  his  dressing  gown  and  slippers,  and 
in  a  manner  which  for  the  moment  seemed  to  be  divested 
of  every  symptom  of  insanity,  ordered  away  the  man 
and  the  dog,  and  at  the  same  time  expressed,  in  courte- 
ous tones,  his  concern  at  the  mistake — a  d 1  of  a 

mistake,  truly ! — and  wishing  me  good  evening,  he 
directed  Thomas  to  show  me  to  the  gate  of  the  shrub- 
bery, and  to  lock  it  after  me. 

The  open  air  revived  my  poor  wife,  who  was  dread- 
fully agitated,  and  when  we  parted  from  the  man- 
servant, he  warned  me  mysteriously  not,  on  peril  of  my 
life,  to  let  out  the  secret  of  the  "  elixir." 

I  was  glad  enough  to  get  away,  at  any  rate,  and  the 
twenty-five  dollars  I  had  received  put  me  in  a  good 
hurnor;  which  soon  made  me  regard  the  affair  as  a  good 
joke,  and  when  we  reached  the  town,  that  very  evening 
I  bought  and  presented  my  wife  with  the  coveted 
bonnet. 

How  to  act  respecting  this  mysterious  family  I 
scarcely  knew.  It  was  evident  enough  that  they  were 


32  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

all  mad — master,  mistress,  and  man,  and  dog  too 
for  aught  I  knew — but  it  was  a  matter  of  consideration 
whether  or  not  I  should  divulge  what  I  had  heard  and 
seen. 

I  put  an  advertisement  in  the  newspapers,  couched  in 
language  that  none  but  friends  of  the  family  could 
understand,  and  left  it  to  chance  to  be  discovered  or 
replied  to.  I  did  not,  however,  wait  long  before  I 
received  a  letter  from  New  Orleans,  inquiring  for  farther 
particulars.  I  told  all  I  knew,  and  the  mystery  was  by 
this  means  developed. 

The  old  gentleman  and  the  housekeeper  were  brother 
and  sister,  and  the  young  lady  was  the  daughter  of  the 
former.  They  were  all  insane;  the  fearful  disease  of 
insanity  being  hereditary  to  the  family.  They  were 
from  the  Island  of  Jamaica,  where  the  old  gentleman  had 
been  a  wealthy  planter ;  but  showing  symptoms  of 
insanity,  and,  with  the  cunning  peculiar  to  madmen, 
having  obtained  an  inkling  that  his  cousin,  the  next 
heir,  was  taking  measures  to  secure  the  property  and  see 
him  properly  taken  care  of,  he  had  secretly  disposed  of 
his  estate  for  a  large  amount  of  cash,  and,  as  secretly 
managed  to  effect  his  escape  to  the  United  States  with 
his  daughter  and  sister,  and  had  hidden  himself  with  his 
golden  treasure  in  this  solitary  mansion,  where,  for  some 
years  he  had  remained  undiscovered.  The  man  Thomas 
had  been  an  old  servant  of  the  family,  who  had  from 
constantly  humoring  the  whims  of  his  master,  "caught 
the  disorder,"  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  Measures 
were  taken  to  obtain  possession  of  the  property  and  the 
persons  of  the  unfortunate  family,  and  I  was  thanked 
sincerely  for  the  part  I  had  acted  in  the  affair  and 
offered  remuneration ;  but,  under  the  circumstances, 
this  I  could  not  accept.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this 
business  had  a  tragical  ending.  The  cousin  of  the  old 
gentleman  came  to  Concord  to  take  possession  ;  but  the 
vagary  respecting  the  conspiracy  drove  the  old  man 
furious,  and  nothing  could  persuade  him  that  he  had  not 
fallen  a  victim  to  those  he  so  much  dreaded.  Every 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  33 

precaution  was  taken  to  remove  all  dangerous  weapons 
from  him ;  but  lie  managed  to  secrete  a  pistol,  and  on 
the  day  he  was  to  be  carried  south,  he  blew  out  hia 
brains  in  his  study.  Thomas  was  dismissed  with  a  pen- 
sion from  the  heir  of  the  property,  which  amounted,  in 
hard  cash,  to  $100,000,  and  the  two  unfortunate  women 
were  properly  taken  care  of  in  a  private  lunatic  asylum 
in  the  south. 

Thus  ended  my  first  endeavor  to  force  practice,  and 
in  a  very  few  weeks  I  was  as  poorly  off  as  ever,  dunned 
by  creditors  on  all  hands,  and  without  money,  or  hopes 
of  money,  to  satisfy  them.  I  had  applied  to  my  father, 
who  had  assisted  me  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  until 
he  could  do  so  no  more.  I  had  serious  intentions  of 
going  to  New  York  to  try  rny  fortune,  and  had  I  pos- 
sessed the  means  would  have  gone  immediately.  In 
fact,  I  was  almost  in  despair,  when  something  did  at 
length  turn  up  which  shed  a  gleam  of  light  on  my 
gloomy  prospects. 


84  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SAILOR— A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 

THE     RETURN     OF    A     LONG     LOST     SON    LEADS     TO    MY    EVENTUAL 
SUCCESS   IN    LIFE. 

MATTERS,  as  I  have  said,  grew  worse,  although,  now 
that  I  could  no  longer  disguise  from  my  wife  the  condi- 
tion of  my  affairs,  she,  like  a  true  woman,  bore  herself 
with  greater  cheerfulness  than  ever,  at  least  in  my  pre- 
sence, and  however  desponding  I  became  when  I  walked 
abroad,  passing  with  a  hurried  gait  from  street  to  street 
of  the  small  town,  with  the  object  of  making  people  be- 
lieve that  my  practice  was  extensive,  although  even  in 
this  pretence  I  thought  I  was  detected,  and  that  many  a 
curious,  laughing  pair  of  eyes  glanced  at  other  equally 
curious  and  laughing  eyes,  as  I  hurried  by,  in  my  neatly 
brushed,  but  now,  alas !  threadbare  clothing,  and  whis- 
pered, as  I  fancied,  "  what  a  humbug  that  little  doctor  is  ; 
does  he  think  people  cannot  see  through  his  wretched 
artifices  ?"  However  desponding  I  became,  I  repeat,  while 
engaged  in  this  fruitless  employment,  a  cheerful  smile  of 
welcome  from  the  bright  eyes  and  pretty  lips  of  my  wife, 
and  the  neat,  and  even  elegant  appearance  of  my  poor 
abode — made  elegant  notwithstanding  its  poverty,  by 
the  nameless  charm  that  woman  is  able  to  cast  over  the 
humblest  and  lowliest  dwelling,  wherein  love  finds  an 
abiding  place,  ever  served  to  smooth  my  contracted  brow, 
and  to  send  the  blood  back  to  my  heart  and  make  its 
pulses  beat  high  with  hope,  even  though  hope  and  I,  but 
a  few  moments  before,  had  seemed  to  have  parted  com- 
pany for  ever.  I  could  but  believe,  as  I  listened  to  the 
words  of  faith  and  confidence  expressed  by  my  wife,  that 
He  who  feeds  the  birds  of  the  air  would  likewise  care  for 
us,  if  we  unmurmuring  submitted  to  his  behests,  and 


STKAY  LEAVES   FROM  MVT  JOURNAL.  35 

strove  honestl}  to  do  our  own  part  well,  while  we  waited 
for  his  good  time;  that  such  trust  and  patience — such 
cheerfulness  at  all  seasons  would  not  go  unrewarded;  for 
to  my  gentle  wife's  charitable  and  compassionate  feelings 
do  I  owe  my  earliest  really  lucrative  practice. 

The  period  at  which  I  first  entered  upon  the  practice  of 
my  profession  was  at  the  commencement  of  the  last  war  with 
Great  Britain,  and  that  war  occasioned  not  a  little  excite- 
ment in  Concord  and  the  surrounding  villages,  for  there 
were  several  families  who  had  relatives  at  sea,  either  ex- 
posed to  the  dangers  of,  or  actually  engaged  in,  the  war. 
Among  others,  a  widow  lady  had  a  son,  master  and 
owner  of  a  vessel,  which  traded  up  the  Mediterranean, 
and  this  young  man  was  the  sole  support  of  mother  and 
sister.  This  family  had  been  one  of  the  wealthiest  in 
Boston  some  few  years  before  ;  but  the  uncertainties  in- 
cidental to  trade  had  ruined  the  father  of  the  family,  who 
was  a  merchant  doing  extensive  business  in  the  Smyrna 
trade,  and  the  shock  of  his  failure  had  so  affected  him 
that  he  sunk  beneath  it  and  died,  leaving  his  widow  in 
poverty,  a  year  afterwards.  This  son  had  been  a  mid- 
shipman in  the  navy ;  but  on  his  father's  death,  he  left 
that  service,  in  the  hope,  by  joining  the  merchant  service, 
to  be  sooner  enabled  to  obtain  command  of  a  vessel,  and 
so  support  his  mother  and  sister  in  comfort. 

By  his  assiduity  and  integrity  of  character,  united  with 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  his  profession,  he  had  obtained 
a  berth  as  mate  of  an  Indiaman,  and  after  a  few  voyages 
had  been  appointed  master.  In  this  capacity  he  had 
made  three  or  four  voyages  to  the  East  Indies,  and  had 
been  so  successful  in  his  speculations  that  he  had  amassed 
sufficient  money  to  purchase  a  small  vessel  of  his  own, 
in  which  he  traded  up  the  Mediterranean  at  the  port 
whereat  his  father  had  done  so  much  business  in  former 
days.  The  family  had  removed  to  Concord,  and  peace 
and  plenty  now  again  reigned  in  the  home  and  in  the 
heart  of  the  poor  widow  and  her  daughter  ;  for  the  son 
had  the  means  of  supporting  them  in  comfort  and  even 
in  luxury,  and  well  had  he  done  his  duty  towards  hia 


36  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

aged  parent ;  but  the  Avar  broke  out,  and  a  year  elapsed, 
and  the  widow,  whom  I  shall  call  Mrs.  Margetts,  heard 
nothing  of  her  son,  or  his  vessel.  Had  the  brig  been 
sunk  at  sea  in  a  gale  of  wind — had  she  run  upon  some 
sunken  rock  and  split  to  pieces,  or  had  she  been  sunk  or 
captured  by  the  enemy  ?  Was  her  son  in  prison  in  Eng- 
land, or  had  he  already  found  a  sailor's  grave  in  the  waters 
of  the  deep  ?  All  these  questions  would  the  widow  ask 
herself,  and  of  course  in  vain.  Vessels  came  in  from  the 
Meditterranean  at  rare  intervals,  for  the  British  cruisers 
kept  a  jealous  watch  at  its  narrow  inlet ;  but  alas!  none 
of  these  vessels  brought  the  hoped  for  tidings  to  the  anx- 
ious mother.  Suspense  is  worse  than  a  knowledge  of  the 
full  depth  of  affliction.  The  health  of  the  poor  old  lady 
began  to  give  way,  while,  to  add  to  her  troubles,  poverty 
bitterly  assailed  her.  The  daughter,  an  interesting  girl 
of  twenty  years  of  age,  was  now  her  mother's  sole  sup- 
port, and  I  need  not  expatiate  upon  the  hard  lot  and  badly 
remunerated  labor  of  females,  unused  to  toil,  and  suddenly 
reduced  from  a  condition  of  competence,  to  earn  their 
own  living.  Music,  Ellen  Margetts  was  well  acquainted 
with ;  but  in  those  days  pianofortes  were  not  found  in 
every  house  as  they  are  at  present — nobody  wanted  to 
learn  music.  Drawing  she  found  equally  unproductive, 
although  she  sketched  beautifully ;  but  it  was  strange 
how  those  very  persons  who  would  have  purchased  her 
sketches  at  her  own  price  when  she  drew  for  the  mere 
sake  of  amusement,  and  who  most  admired  her  artistic  talv 
ent,  co_uld  now  see  no  merit  in  her  drawings,  and  though 
they  told  her  they  were  pretty  enough  when  she  showed 
them,  they  made  no  offers  of  purchase  and  declared  them 
miserable  daubs  that  they  would  not  disgrace  their  port 
folios  with,  so  soon  as  the  poor  girl's  back  was  turned. 

Needle  work  then  was  her  last  and  her  sole  resource, 
and  upon  the  miserable  pittance  earned  by  her  needle, 
Ellen  Margetts  and  her  mother  lived — lived,  have  I  writ- 
ten— I  should  have  written,  starved. 

My  wife  had  employed  Miss  Margetts  in  helping  her 
to  make  her  wedding  dress,  and  the  two  young  women 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  37 

had  taken  a  great  liking  to  each  other;  but  for  some 
months  we  had  not  seen  her.  She  and  my  wife  and  I 
were  alike  struggling  with  poverty,  and  the  poet  said 
truly  when  he  sang — 

"  The  heart  that  •weeps  for  sorrow  all  its  own, 
Forgets  the  woes  of  others  to  bemoan." 

One  evening,  however,  I  came  home  pretty  early,  aftei 
having,  as  usual,  pursued  my  weary,  useless  rounds.  I. 
had  that  day  received  a  remittance  of  a  few  dollars  from 
my  father,  and  as  Susanna  and  I  had  been  living  on  short 
allowance  for  some  time  past,  I  determined  that  we  would 
have  a  treat  on  that  day,  at  any  rate.  So,  on  going  out 
in  the  morning,  I  had  walked  to  the  poulterers  and  or- 
dered and  paid  for  a  pair  of  chickens  to  be  sent  home, 
and  then  had  procured  at  the  market  such  other  accessa- 
ries as  were  requisite  to  make  up  quite  a  little  feast.  It 
had  struck  me,  /oo,  that  rny  wife's  cheeks  looked  a  little 
pale  of  late,  as  if  the  dear  girl  was  suffering  from  the 
privations  she  endured,  although  she  ever  strove  "to  hide 
her  griefs  from  me,  so  I  called  in  at  the  grocery  and  or- 
dered and  paid  for  a  bottle  of  the  best  port  wine.  I  know 
that  it  was  rather  extravagant  for  a  man  in  my  circum- 
stances, and  that  a  dish  of  pork  and  beans,  with  at  the 
most,  a  mug  of  cider  to  wash  it  down,  would  have  been 
more  compatible  with  the  real  state  of  affairs ;  but  I  al- 
ways liked  a  good  glass  of  wine  myself,  and  although  I 
passed  and  repassed  the  door  of  the  grocery  twice,  while 
cogitating  upon  the  matter,  before  I  made  up  my  mind, 
I  at  length  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "  it  is  a  poor  heart 
that  never  rejoices,"  and  therefore  giving  my  hat  a  deter- 
mined pull  over  my  brow,  and  fumbling  the  loose  silver 
in  my  pocket  with  the  air  of  a  man  of  consequence,  I 
walked  in,  and,  as  I  have  said,  ordered  and  paid  for  the 
wine.  I  thought  the  man  seemed  half  inclined  to  pre- 
sent me  with  a  little  account  he  held  against  me  for  sugar, 
soap,  candles  and  the  various  et  ceteras  of  housekeeping, 
but  the  unwonted  jingle  of  coin  in  my  pocket  seemed 
alike  to  give  him  and  me  confidence,  and  he  said  nothing 


38  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

about  the  dreaded  bill,  although  he  had  pressed  me  for 
payment  no  less  than  three  times  during  the  preceding 
week.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  a  great  mind  to  ask  him 
to  send  the  wine  and  charge  it  in  the  bill,  and  so  save 
the  two  dollars  (which  God  knows  I  needed  very  much) 
for  the  present ;  but  I  could  not  muster  up  courage  enough 
for  this,  and  besides,  I  half  guessed  that  he  wouldn't  send 
the  wine  without  the  money. 

I  was  much  astonished,  however,  when  I  reached  home 
at  five  in  the  evening  to  find  that  only  one  of  the  chick- 
ens was  cooked,  and  as  they  were  but  small  ones,  I  had 
made  a  hungry  calculation  of  disposing  of  at  least  a  whole 
chicken  myself.  I  thought  my  wife  for  once  in  a  way 
inclined  to  be  too  economical;  but  she  looked  so  happy, 
and  the  one  chicken  after  all,  was  so  nicely  cooked,  while 
the  piece  of  pork  I  had  bought  to  eat  with  it,  although 
that  too  seemed  to  have  shrunk  confoundedly  during  the 
process  of  boiling,  sent  forth  such  a  savory  steam,  and 
the  potatoes,  large  and  mealy,  bursting  out  of  their  jack- 
ets, looked  so  invitingly  appetizing  that  I  said  nothing, 
thinking  that  after  all,  my  wife's  plan  perhaps  was  the 
wisest,  and  the  other  chicken  would  make  an  admirable 
dinner  for  the  next  day. 

When  I  had  sufficiently  satisfied  my  appetite — and  in 
truth  by  that  time  the  dishes  and  platters  were  pretty 
well  cleaned  out — I  bethought  me  of  the  wine,  and  when 
my  wife  had  cleared  away  the  dinner  things,  I  said — 

"  Susanna  dear,  the  wine — did  not  Simkins  send  home 
a  bottle  of  port?" 

"Yes,  love,"  replied  my  wife,  ''  he  did." 

"  Then  hand  it  to  me,  my  dear,  and  please  bring  the 
corkscrew ;  and  if  you  don't  mind  my  smoking,  just  one 
cigar ;  I  intend  this  evening  to  enjoy  myself,  and  you  can 
make  yourself  some  port  wine  negus.  It  will  do  you 
good  ;  and — make  it  strong,  love." 

"  The  cork  is  already  drawn,  James,"  said  my  wife, 
handing  me  a  half  empty  bottle. 

"  The  devil !"  I  had  almost  said,  but  I  checked  myself 
in  time.  "  How  is  this,  Susy  dear  ?  that  impudent  fellow, 


A    SURPRIBE. 

"The  wine,  d«ir,"  said  I  ;  and,  to  my  utter  ut'mighim-nt,  Susunimh  produc-ed  a  bottle  from  whi.-li  tin 
cork  huh  been  druwu  uud  Imh  llie  wine  iibstrin-tea.— L'luiptcr  II f. 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  39 

Simkins,  has  surely  never  played  me  such  a  trick  as  this  ? 
If  he  has  dared  to  do  so,  I'll — I'll — "  and  then  I  stopped, 
because  I  didn't  know  what  I  would  do,  and  as  to  break- 
ing the  bottle  over  the  aforesaid  Simkins'  head,  or  any 
other  such  little  matter,  the  vision  of  a  little  bill,  "$46,75," 
which  I  had  no  means  present  or  prospective  to  settle, 
came  floating  between  me  and  the  object  of  my  wrath, 
and  suspended  my  vituperation. 

'*  Simkins  sent  the  wine  home  all  right,  my  dear ;  but  I 
opened  the  bottle  and  made  use  of  the  wine,  James.  You 
have  always  said  that  you  would  be  glad  for  me  to  treat 
myself  to  any  little  pleasure  that  you  could  afford,  and  so 
I  took  my  share  of  the  wine  beforehand.  You  see  half 
the  bottle  full  still  remains — and  won't  that  be  enough 
for  you,  dear,  to-night,"  she  added,  playfully  stroking 
her  fingers  through  my  hair  as  she  spoke. 

I  looked  up  in  her  face  with  perfect  astonishment. 

"  I  have  used  half  the  bottle  of  wine! — my  share  of 
the  wine !"  I  had  always  been  in  favor  of  a  community 
of  goods  between  man  and  wife,  with  a  leaning  in  many 
little  matters  to  the  gentler  partner;  but  wine,  although 
I  had  never  taken  the  thing  into  serious  consideration, 
was  an  article  of  consumption  which,  when  we  did  enjoy 
the  luxury,  I  thought  should  fall  largely  to  my  share. 
In  fact,  I  had  already  mentally  appropriated  three-fourths 
of  that  bottle  of  wine  to  my  own  use,  making  a  reserva- 
tion in  like  manner  of  the  remaining  portion  of  the  ex- 
hilarating liquor  for  my  wife. 

I  looked  at  her  with  astonishment.  My  first  thought, 
(I  am  ashamed  of  it  to  this  day,)  was,  can  Susanna  really 
have  drunk  half  a  bottle  of  wine !  and  then  I  gazed  upon 
her  smiling  face,  unusually  radiant  with  delight  and 
blamed  myself  for  harboring  so  ridiculous  a  suspicion. 

"You  will  not  be  angry  if  1  tell  you  how  1  have  dis- 
posed of  the  wine,  will  you,  dear?''  said  my  wife,  placing 
her  arm  round  my  neck;  and  I  said,  kindly,  "Certainly 
aot,  love,  for  you  make  a  good  use  of  everything." 

So  I  drew  the  sofa  before  the  fire,  and  placing  the  half 
empty  bottle  upon  the  table  before  me,  I  drew  my  wife 


40  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

towards  me,  and  encircling  her  waist  with  my  arm  I 
awaited  the  elucidation  of  the  mystery. 

"  You  recollect  poor  Ellen  Margetts,"  begun  -my  wife, 
"  who  helped  to  do  some  sewing  for  me  upon  a  certain 
occasion,  in  which  we  were  mutually  interested,"  and 
this  she  said  with  a  sly,  quiet,  happy  smile,  (alluding  to 
our  marriage,)  which  provoked  a  kiss  from  me,  "  well,  I 
met  her,  to-day,  so  wan,  so  pale,  so  unlike  she  was  three 
months  ago  when  last  I  saw  her,  that  I  should  not  have 
known  her  had  she  not  first  recognized  me.  She  was  so 
weak  and  faint  that  I  insisted  upon  accompanying  her 
home ;  although  she  fain  would  have  prevented  my  doing 
so,  and  oh !  James,  such  wretchedness  and  poverty  as  I 
could  not  help  seeingj  much  as  they  strove  to  hide  it.  I 
learnt  that  Ellen  had  overwrought  herself,  and  carrying 
some  needle-work  home  late  at  night,  had  caught  a  severe 
cold,  which  for  want  of  care  and  proper  medical  assist- 
ance, had  settled,  as  she  feared,  upon  her  lungs.  For 
some  weeks  past,  she  has  been  unable  to  work  at  all,  and 
I  believe  they  have  been  near  starving ;  for  they  were  too 
proud  to  make  their  case  known,  and  the  poor  old  lady 
is  worn  out  with  grief  for  her  son,  whom  she  now  begins 
to  believe  she  will  see  no  more.  Altogether,  James,  it 
was  a  piteous  scene ;  one  calculated  to  make  one's  heart 
ache,  and  that  will  not  be  easily  forgotten,  and  I  insisted 
on  sending  my  share  of  the  port  wine  to  the  house ;  for 
the  old  lady  had  incidentally  mentioned  that  some  doc- 
tor had  ordered  her  daughter  to  drink  port  wine.  Are 
you  satisfied,  James?  although  I  have  more  to  tell  you." 

"  No,  love,"  I  replied  ;  "  you  should  have  sent  all  the 
wine  and  allowed  me  the  pleasure  of  appropriating  my 
share  to  so  kind  a  purpose.  I  can  guess  the  rest  of  your 
story.  The  fowl  that  did  not  appear  upon  the  dinner- 
table " 

"  Has  gone  to  the  same  destination,"  interrupted  my 
wife,  "  and  half  the  piece  of  pork." 

"  Ah !"  thought  I,  "  that  accounts  for  its  shrinking  so 
confoundedly  in  the  pot." 

"  Nor  is  the  story  yet  all  told,"  continued  my  wife. — 


STRAY  LtAVE3   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  41 

"You  gave  me  throe  dollars  to-day  as  spending- money, 
out  of  the  icixiitt^.nce  your  father  sent  you;  that,  although 
I  told  you  at  the  time  you  were  too  generous,  I  thought 
belonged  wholly  to  me,  and  so  I  insisted  upon  lending 
it  to  Ellen.  I  said  Ending  it,  dear ;  because,  otherwise, 
they  would  noi  t^ke  it ;  so  you  see  I  shared  what  I 
had  a  partial  claim  upon,  and  gave  up  that  which  I  be- 
lieved to  be  my  ovrn.  Have  I  your  approval,  dear?" 

"  My  more  than  approval,  dearest  Susy,''  I  answered  ; 
"  well  may  I  be  prorvd  of  such  a  gentle  wife.  The  money 
I  could  ill  snare :  but  they  needed  it  more  than  we,  and 
are  truly  welcome  to  the  small  pittance  you  presented 
them  with — although  I  must  tell  you  the  truth,  Susy, 
much  as  I  should  wish  to  replace  the  trifle  in  your  purse, 
you  must  v.'ait  for  me  to  do  so ;  for  at  present,  with  pay- 
ing certain  outlaying  expenses  which  were  imperative, 
and  with  providing  our  little  treat  to-day,  which  I  am 
truly  happy  that  otu?rs  have  shared,  I  have  cleared  out 
my  pockets  again." 

"  That  we  are  so  poor,  of  course  I  regret,"  replied  my 
wife,  "  but  1  do  not  regret  the  money  I  gave  away,  and 
I  enjoy  the  luxury  of  doing  good  in  my  humble  way, 
all  the  more  because  I  am  compelled  to  suffer  self-denial. 
And  now.  dear,  one  ihing  more.  No  physician  attends 
Miss  Margetts  regularly,  and  I  am  sure  she  needs  one. 
I  promised  her  you  would  call  and  see  her.  Will  you 
oblige  me  by  doing  so — nay,  I  am  sure  you  will — for 
although  you  cannot  hope  to  gain  by  it  in  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view;  nay,  although  perhaps  you  may  lose  by 
your  atteiiJauuo  inpon  one  so  destitute  of  means  as  poor 
Ellen  is — still  the  feel  ing  that  you  have  afforded  consola- 
tion to  tne  widow,  and  perhaps  saved  the  life  of  her 
child,  will  more  than  ten  fold  repay  you." 

My  wife  ceased  speaking,  and  I  immediately  acceded 
to  her  request,  and  promised  to  see  Miss  Margetts  in  the 
morning.  "And  £ow,  darling,"  I  said,  "get  some  hot 
water  ar.d  sugar,  and  I  will  brew  some  negus  for  you — 
for  I  am  determined  you  shall  still  have  your  share  of 
the  wine  that  is  ]eft." 


42  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

My  wife  smiled,  and  did  as  I  requested,  and  we  sat  up 
late,  discussing  various  topics  for  the  amelioration  of  our 
own  affairs,  and  also  how  we  could  best  assist  the  poor 
widow  and  her  daughter.  At  length  we  retired  to  rest, 
and  the  next  morning,  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  m}~  frugal 
breakfast,  I  set  out  on  my  visit  to  the  abode  of  Mrs. 
Margetts  and  her  daughter ; — it  was  in  the  suburbs  of 
the  town,  and  though  the  house  was  a  decent  one,  and 
the  staircases  (a  thing  I  always  take  especial  notice  of 
in  forming  my  opinion  of  the  residents  of  a  dwelling- 
place)  were  scrupulously  clean,  it  was  very  evident  that 
the  tenement  was  inhabited  by  poor  people — mechanics, 
I  imagined  them  to  be,  generally ;  and  in  consequence 
of  the  war,  trade  was  then  at  a  low  ebb,  and  the  most 
skilful  and  industrious  mechanic  had  a  great  difficulty  in 
obtaining  a  livelihood.  Mrs.  Margetts'  room  was  in  the 
uppermost  story  of  the  house,  and  although  a  general 
air  of  neatness  pervaded  the  room  she  and  her  daughter 
occupied,  the  absence  of  furniture,  even  of  the  most  ne- 
cessary description,  was  painfully  evident.  I  thought 
my  own  abode  poor  enough  in  this  respect;  but  God 
knows — if  it  be  really  a  cause  of  congratulation  and 
praise  that  we  are  better  off  than  our  neighbors,  which, 
in  spite  of  good  Dr.  Watts,  I  very  much  doubt — I  had 
sufficient  to  be  thankful  for  when  I  surveyed  the  bare 
walls  of  Mrs.  Margetts'  dwelling. 

I  found  the  old  lady  almost  worn  out  with  grief  for 
the  prolonged  and  unaccountable  absence  of  her  son,  and 
the  fears  she  entertained  respecting  her  daughter ;  and 
poor  Ellen !  glad  was  I  to  find,  upon  making  inquiry 
respecting  the  symptoms  of  her  disease,  that  it  was  not 
consumption  which  was  preying  upon  her  vitals — but, 
shall  I  say  it,  starvation — the  want  of  the  actual  necessa 
ries  of  life,  that,  in  order  that  her  mother  might  not  want 
for  food,  was  wearing  her  away  to  the  grave.  Glad,  ] 
say  was  I  even  to  ascertain  this — for  this  a  remedy  might 
be  found ;  but  in  a  long  course  of — I  say  it  not  proudly, 
but  thankfully — successful  practice, — I  have  never,  what 
ever  empirics  may  say,  found  that  human  skill  could  ar- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  43 

rest  the  fatal  progress  of  that  fell  destroyer  of  the  human 
race,  which  year  after  year  hurries  so  many  of  the  best 
and  fairest  to  the  tomb. 

While  I  was  sitting  in  the  room  endeavoring  to  ad- 
minister consolation  to  the  almost  heart-broken  mother, 
and  to  the  daughter  who  had,  with  Spartan  virtue,  de- 
termined to  devote  herself  a  victim  to  preserve  her  mo- 
ther from  the  pangs  of  hunger,  a  young  female  entered  the 
apartment,  after  giving  warning  of  her  presence  by  a 
gentle  tap  at  the  door  and  a  voice  of  unparalleled  sweet- 
ness saying,  ''  May  I  come  in  ?" 

She  was  poorly  and  coarsely  clad — but  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  air  and  manner  which  at  once  betrayed  the 
gentlewoman.  I  cannot  say  what  it  was;  but  I  venture 
to  say  that  there  is  scarcely  one  of  my  readers  who  will 
not  know  what  I  mean.  The  French  have  the  best 
method  of  expressing  it  by  that  Je  ne  sais  quoi  of  good 
breeding  which  no  art  nor  culture  can  emulate. 

In  truth,  she  was  a  lovely  creature,  notwithstanding 
the  poverty  of  her  attire,  and  I  was  doubly  interested  in 
her  when  I  found  she  was,  as  I  may  term  it,  the  widowed 
betrothed  of  the  long  absent  and  generally  supposed  lost 
son. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  decayed  stock-broker  who 
had  once  moved  in  the  highest  circles  of  society,  but 
whom  the  difficulties  of  the  war  had  involved  in  one 
fell  swoop  of  ruin.  Her  father  was  the  inmate  of  a 
lunatic  asylum,  and  her  mother  had  escaped  the  miseries 
incidental  to  a  life  of  poverty,  when  suffered  by  those 
who  had  known  better  days,  by  falling  into  the  even  less 
repulsive  embraces  of  death. 

Eleanor  Sandford — that  was  the  name  of  the  beautiful 
girl — had  been  betrothed  to  young  Margetts,  who  had 
known  and  loved  her  in  happier  days,  and  had  not  for- 
saken her  in  poverty,  and  when  last  he  had  sailed,  it  had 
been  arranged  that  their  marriage  should  take  place  on 
his  return ;  but  alas !  the  bridegroom  came  not  to  the 
wedding,  and  a  heavy  blight  had  fallen  on  the  hopes  and 
prospects  of  the  expectant  bride. 


44  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

It  was  a  sad  and  mournful  errand,  that  on  which  she 
carne.  Mrs.  Margetts  had  some  weeks  before  arrived  at 
the  unwilling,  oft  deferred  conclusion  that  her  son  was 
dead,  and  she  was  desirous  to  dress  henceforward,  until 
it  should  please  God  to  release  her  from  a  world  which 
had  been  truly  to  her  a  world  of  woe,  in  habiliments  of 
mourning,  and  poor,  gentle  Eleanor  had  out  of  her  own 
restricted  means  made  up  for  the  bereaved  mother  and 
sister,  and  for  herself  too,  dresses  befitting  the  occasion ; 
funereal  in  reality  as  the  most  costly  that  could  be  pro- 
cured in  the  most  fashionable  magazin  for  the  disposal  of 
these  sad  symbols,  although  of  cheap  material. 

After  some  conversation  with  them  and  having  admin- 
istered such  words  of  comfort,  hope  and  consolation  as 
I  could  think  of,  I  left  the  house  with  a  heavy  heart,  and 
returned  home. 

That  evening  my  wife  and  I  held  a  long  consultation 
as  to  what  we  could  do  for  these  poor  friendless  females. 
We  were  poor  enough  ourselves,  but  we  thought  we 
could  still  help  them ;  and  I  determined  to  make  her  case 
known  to  my  friends.  I  could  not  beg  for  myself,  my 
pride  forbade  it ;  but  I  thought  I  might  with  a  bold  front 
solicit  aid  in  such  a  case  of  distress  as  had  thus  been 
disclosed  to  me. 

By  pursuing  this  course  I  collected  sufficient  to  place 
them,  at  least  in  some  measure,  in  a  more  comfortable 
position,  and  I  was  well  repaid  by  finding  the  daughter 
improve  beneath  my  care,  and  at  length  both  mother  and 
daughter  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  attend  the  church, 
which  sickness  and  the  actual  want  of  decent  and  credit- 
able clothing  had  kept  them  from  for  some  months. 

It  was  a  sad  sight,  and  one  that  drew  tears  from  many 
eyes,  as  that  aged  mother  and  fragile  daughter,  attired 
in  the  habiliments  of  woe,  attended  by  Eleanor  Sandford 
in  the  like  mournful  garb,  walked  up  the  aisle  of  the 
little  church,  and  for  many  weeks  they  were  the  atten- 
tively observed  of  the  congregation,  and  the  cause  of 
general  commiseration.  So  time  passed  on.  Matters 
with  me  were  daily  growing  worse,  that  is  to  say,  I  was 


STRAY   LEAVES   FKOM   MY  JOURNAL.  45 

every  day  growing  deeper  in  debt,  and  every  day  having 
less  prospect  of  ever  being  able  to  pay  my  debts.  People 
would  not  get  sick  in  Concord,  or  if  they  got  sick,  which 
I  very  much  doubt,  they  procured  other  doctors  to  kill 
or  cure  them,  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  all  these  doctors 
were  strangers.  They  wouldn't  trust  to  my  curative 
powers.  So  true  is  it  that  "  a  prophet  hath  no  honor  in 
his  own  country." 

This  miserable  state  of  things  had  almost  arrived  at  a 
consummation ;  in  fact  I  had  began  to  despair  of  ever 
getting  further  credit  for  a  loaf  of  bread.  I  was  sitting 
one  rainy  night,  talking  with  my  wife,  and  endeavoring 
to  devise  some  plan  for  procuring  a  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  for  we  seemed  almost  doomed  to  starvation, 
when  a  carriage  rolled  rapidly  up  the  street,  and  stopped 
opposite  my  residence ;  another  moment  and  there  was 
a  ring  at  the  hall  door.  My  wife  hastened  to  open  it, 
while  I  assumed  a  dignified  aspect,  in  the  anticipation 
of  a  patient  at  last. 

"  Does  Dr. reside  here?"  I  heard  asked,  in  a  gen- 
tlemanly tone  of  voice. 

"  Yes,"  replied  my  wife. 

"  Can  I  see  him  immediately?"  responded  the  querist. 

"  Please  to  walk  into  the  parlor,  sir,"  said  my  wife, 
arid  at  the  same  moment  a  tall,  handsome  stranger  en- 
tered the  room,  attired  in  a  rough  overcoat,  on  which  the 
rain  drops  were  glistening  like  diamonds. 

"Have  I  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Dr. ?"  said  the 

stranger,  extending  his  hand  and  seizing  mine,  which  he 
shook  in  a  fashion  that  at  all  events  sufficiently  testified 
to  his  physical  ability. 

"I  am  Dr. ,"  I  replied;  "but  you,  sir,  are  a 

stranger  to  me." 

"  You  must  not  henceforth  be  a  stranger  to  me,  dear 

Doctor,  if  all  I  have  heard  prove  true,"  was  his  reply, 

'  My  name  is  Alfred  Margetts ;  I  have  arrived  at  Con- 

eord  from  Boston  scarce  a  quarter  of  an  hour  si  .ice,  and 

have  in  vain  sought  for  my  mother,  and  sister,  and  , 

but  never  mind  who  else.  1  was  told  by  several  persons 


46  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

of  the  kindness  that  you  have  shown  them  in  the  hour 
of  distress,  and  I  have  come  hither  to  seek  them.  I  am 
told  you  know  where  they  reside." 

My  wife  and  I  both  started  as  though  we  had  seen  an 
apparition,  and  for  some  moments  we  were  speechless 
with  astonishment. 

At  length  I  regained  sufficient  composure  to  express 
my  joyful  surprise  at  his  return.  "  Will  you  be  seated  ?;) 
said  I. 

"  No,  doctor,  no ;  hurry  on  your  coat  like  a  good  fel- 
low, for  the  night  is  stormy  enough  for  an  old  sailor,  let 
alone  a  landsman,  to  be  abroad  in ;  but  ask  me  no  ques- 
tions now ;  I  can  answer  nothing  until  I  have  seen  rny 
mother  and  sister — yet  stay,  doctor,  I  will  ask  you  one 
question.  Do  you  know  Eleanor  Sandford  ? 

"I  do,"  I  replied,  smiling  in  spite  of  myself  at  the 
impetuous  manner  in  which  the  young  sailor  spoke. 

"  And  she  is  living  and  well  ?" 

"Living  and  well,"  I  repeated,  "and  in  this  town 
too." 

"  And  not  married,  doctor  !  not  married,  eh  ?" 

"  And  not  married,"  I  added ;  "  nor  likely  to  be,  I 
believe,  unless  a  young  sailor  named  Alfred  Margetts, 
whom  she  has  long  thought  dead,  and  to  whose  memory 
she  is  wedded,  should  return  to  claim  her  hand." 

"Thank  God  for  that,"  said  the  young  senman. 
"  Doctor,  you  are  a  trump ;  now  come  along,  there's  a 
good  fellow,  never  mind  the  rain." 

We  left  the  house  together,  and  soon  reached  the 
dwelling-place  of  Mrs.  Margetts,  where  I  left  the  long 
lost  son  to  meet  his  mother  and  sister  alone.  It  would, 
I  thought,  be  sacrilege  to  intrude  on  a  scene  so  solemn, 
and  withal  so  tender  as  I  well  knew  would  ensue. 

As  I  turned  to  quit  the  house,  and  wend  my  way 
nomeward,  the  young  sailor  turned  towards  me,  and  in 
a  voice  choking  with  emotion,  gasped  forth  the  words : 

"Doctor  ,  the  best  day's  work  that  ever  you  did, 

was  on  that  day  on  which  you  befriended  my  poor 
widowed  mother  and  my  helpless  sister.  I  have  heard 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  47 

all  about  it.     God  bless  you  !"  and  hastily  wringing  my 
hand,  he  almost  flew  up  the  stairs. 

I  returned  home,  and  the  joyful  return  of  the  supposed 
dead  brother,  son  and  lover,  formed  matter  of  conversa- 
tion to  my  wife  and  I  throughout  the  evening. 

The  next  day  I  received  a  visit  from  young  Margetts 
and  his  sister  who  had  spoken,  as  I  afterwards  learnt, 
most  warmly  to  her  brother  in  my  praise.  I  then  learnt 
his  story. 

He  had  not,  as  we  supposed,  been  taken  by  the 
British ;  but  his  vessel  had  been  captured  by  Barbary 
corsairs,  and  for  many  long,  weary  months  he  had 
endured  imprisonment  in.  Algiers;  but  at  length  half 
starved  to  death,  and  half  dead  with  ill  usage,  he  had 
effected  his  escape  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  and  in  an  open 
boat,  had  himself  sailed  across  the  Mediterranean  sea  to 
the  French  shores ;  thence  he  had  proceeded  to  Smyrna, 
where  he  had  friends,  in  the  hope  of  getting  means  to 
reach  home  again.  Here,  however  fortune,  who  had  so 
long  frowned  upon  him  and  those  he  jield  dearest,  be- 
friended him.  He  found  that  his  father's  agent  had 
wrongfully  despoiled  the  old  gentleman  of  his  property, 
and  on  his  death-bed  had  been  visited  by  feelings  of 
compunction  and  had  left  the  property  supposed  to  bo 
lost,  now  greatly  improved,  to  his  employer's  heirs. 
Young  Margetts  therefore  found  himself  in  the  posses- 
sion of  a  large  fortune,  and  he  immediately  hastened  to 
reach  his  home.  The  vessel  he  took  passage  in,  suc- 
ceeded in  eluding  the  vigilance  of  the  British  cruisers, 
and  as  the  reader  has  seen,  he  arrived  safely  in  Boston, 
whence  he  immediately  hurried  to  Concord. 

The  next  Sunday  the  proud  widow  walked  up  the 
aisle  of  the  church,  no  longer  attired  in  the  weeds  of 
mourning,  for  the  son  whom  she  had  deemed  lost  was 
found  again,  and  on  his  stalwart  arm,  she  rested  her 
aged  frame,  and  two  others  preceded  them  to  their  well 
known  pew,  and  these,  also,  had  doffed  their  mourning 
garbs.  The  reader  need  scarcely  be  told  that  these  were 
Fanny  Margetts  and  Eleanor  Sandford. 


48  THE   OLD  DOCTOR;    OR, 

In  a  day  or  two  the  young  sailor  called  again  at  ray 
house,  and  in  a  frank,  but  delicate  and  gentlemanly 
manner,  inquired  into  my  prospects,  honestly  telling  me 
that  he  had  heard  they  were  none  of  the  best. 

I  told  him  all,  and  he  prompt  y  replied  : 

"Doctor,  you  must  go  to  New  York;  Concord  is  too 
small  a  place  for  you  to  hope  foi  busies*  and  you  must 
allow  me  to  advance  the  funds  requisite  to  start  you  in 
business  on  a  good  foundation.  Nay,"  h?  added,  seeing 
me  hesitate,  "  as  a  loan,  doctor,  of  course,  to  be  paid 
when  you  get  rich,  as  one  day  you  certainly  will  be. 
Mind  I  predict  that.  I  have  oniy  to  add  one  thing 
more  —  you  must  not  leave  nni:l  Eleanor  and  I  are 
married;  that  will  be  on  this  da^  7'eek,  and  you  and 
your  good  little  wife  must  be  a*.  Oe  wedding." 

This  I  promised,  and  the  we.tlOv^o-  dulv  came  off,  and 


young  Margetts  and  his  bloon,:^  Dr.-v-  were  acknow- 
ledged to  be  the  handsomest  coup.'w  v]^-'-  :.ur  many  a  day 
had  left  that  church  as  man  and  wife. 

Several  children  blessed  their  umon,  -^nd,  although  I 
have  for  some  years  lost  sight  of  then-,  for  aught  I  know 
they  are  still  living.  They  wem  south  'jome  few  years 
after  their  marriage,  to  reside  upon  a*;  estate  that  young 
Margetts  had  purchased  there  ;  but  bcvve  that  I  had 
repayed  the  liberal  sum  with  which  '••ue  grateful  young 
man  had  supplied  me,  to  enable  me  to  nrake  a  fair  start 
n  life. 

Since  then  until  now,  in  a  green  old  age,  my  course 
.ias  been  onward  and  upward,  and  I  d'.ce  'Jl  my  success 
to  the  fact  of  my  wife  having,  in  the  kindness  of  her 
heart,  given  half  my  feast  away  on  tiie  ta.y  I  received 
the  remittance,  mentioned  heretoiore,  frjm  my  father. 

My  wife  is  still  living,  and  is  now  siting  beside  me, 
spectacles  on  nose,  busily  engaged  in  kuittin-g,  of  which 
employment  she  is  very  fond,  and  wondering,  dear  old 
soul,  what  I  am  spoiling  so  many  sheets  of  good  foolscap 
about. 

My  children  are  grown  up,  and  all  veil  to  do  in  the 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  49 

world.  Thus  have  I  verified  the  saying,  that  a  good 
deed  never  goes  unrequited,  even  in  this  world. 

I  removed  to  New  York,  and  in  the  next  leaf  from 
my  journal  I  shall  narrate  my  experiences  in  that  great 
city. 

Strange,  in  my  very  first  call,  in  the  way  of  business; 
Bleecker  street  and  the  Five  Points  both  figure.  The 
highest  grade  and  the  lowest  depths  of  social  life  then 
known  in  the  city  of  New  York.  The  facts  are  startling, 
as  the  reader  will  acknowledge  when  he  comes  to  peruse 
them  !  but  they  are  none  the  less  true ;  for  I  have  often 
found  that  "  Truth  is  strange — stranger  than  fiction." 

8 


50  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

DESTITUTION  IN  NEW  YORK  FORTY  YEARS  AGO. THE  FORGED 

CLAUSE  IN  THE  WILL. 

I  HAD  removed  to  New  York,  and  was  snugly  en- 
sconced in  a  neat  house  near  the  Battery,  at  that  period 
(recollect  this  was  nearly  forty  years  ago)  a  very  fashion- 
able location,  the  Battery  being  then  a  favorite  evening 
promenade  of  the  beaux  and  belles  of  the  city. 

From  the  day  I  had  removed  from  Concord  and  estab- 
lished myself  in  New  York,  everything  had  prospered 
with  me  in  as  great  a  degree  as  everything  had  formerly- 
failed  that  I  had  taken  in  hand,  so  strange,  yet  so  true  it 
is,  "  there  is  a  destiny  that  shapes  our  ends,  rough  hew 
them  as  we  may." 

I  had  got  easily  and  rapidly  (thanks  to  the  kind  offices 
of  my  sailor  friend)  into  a  comfortable,  if  not  a  lucrative 
practice,  with  every  prospect  of  an  iecrease  of  business, 
which  in  fact  was  growing  upon  me  daily. 

It  is  not  my  intention  in  making  extracts  from  these 

Stray  Leaves  from  my  Journal,"  to  narrate  every  trivial 
incident  that  a  medical  man  may  meet  with  in  the  course 
of  his  practice  in  a  large  city ;  but  here  and  there  an  in- 
cident comes  in  my  way,  which  I  deem  worthy  of  espe- 
cial note. 

I  was  returning  home  one  cold  frosty  evening  in  De- 
cember, 18 —  after  having  been  to  visit  an  aged  patient 
who  resided  in  a  villa  situated  in  a  locality  now  known 
as  Waverly  Place,  but  at  that  period,  quite  in  the  coun- 
try, and  was  anxious  to  regain  my  own  home  and  to  en- 
joy the  remainder  of  the  evening  in  my  own  quiet  par- 
lor, where,  the  tea  things  having  been  removed,  for  in 
those  days  we  took  our  meals  at  seasonable  hours,  and 
did  not  speak  of  the  evening  meal  under  the  misnomer 
of  dinner — it  was  my  usual  custom  to  pass  the  evening 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  51 

in  reading  to  my  wife,  while  she  pursued  her  busy  occu- 
pation with  the  needle,  occasionally  diversifying  the  te- 
diousness  of  the  evening  hours  with  a  little  chit-chat  re- 
specting our  prospects,  or  in  discoursing  of  our  neighbors 
— but  no  scandal,  that  I  never  could  endure,  and  as  to 
my  wife,  I  don't  believe  she  would  have  spoken  evil  of 
her  greatest  enemy — if  indeed  she  had  any  enemies — be- 
hind their  backs. 

I  was,  however,  as  I  have  said,  hastening  home  through 
the  slippery  streets,  the  sleet  and  snow  beating  in  my 
face,  and  making  the  prospect  of  my  comfortable  home 
and  snug  fireside,  still  more  comfortable, — for  it  was  a 
night  on  which  I  would  not  have  turned  a  stray  dog 
abroad  to  endure  the  skin-piercing  blasts,  which  penetra- 
ted to  the  very  bone — when,  on  crossing  Broadway  just 
above  Chambers-street,  my  sense  of  hearing  was  assailed 
by  the  piteous  voice  of  a  child  who  begged  one  cent  from 
me  to  carry  home  to  her  sick  mother. 

The  voice  of  any  human  being  in  distress,  on  such  a 
night  as  that  of  which  I  speak,  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  have  drawn  open  the  purse-strings  of  a  miser ;  and 
although  the  cold  wind  was  so  piercing  that  respiration 
was  difficult,  and  to  cease  motion  in  the  open  air  appeared 
to  create  a  stagnation  of  the  blood,  I  involuntarily  stopped, 
and  putting  my  hands  in  my  trowsers'  pocket,  in  .which 
I  always  kept  a  supply  of  copper  coins  for  purposes  of 
charity,  I  drew  out  three  or  four  cents,  and  was  about 
placing  them  in  the  hands  of  the  child  and  passing  on, 
when  the  thought  struck  me,  "  What  untold  misery  could 
thus  have  kept  a  child  of  this  age  abroad  for  the  sake  of 
earning  a  few  cents  in  such  a  night  as  this,  when  every- 
thing human  or  bestial,  which  has  a  hovel  under  which 
to  obtain  shelter,  would  have  been  at  home?"  This 
thought  caused  me  to  look  more  closely  at  the  object  of 
my  charity,  and  in  the  faint  glimmer  of  light  diffused 
from  an  •  il  lamp  that  was  glimmering  close  by,  and 
which  shei  its  faint  rays  full  upon  her  lace,  I  perceived 
that  the  little  petitioner  was  a  girl  who  could  not  have 
numbered  more  than  ten  or  twelve  summers.  I  could 


52  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

obtain  but  a  faint  glimpse  of  her  features,  but  I  thought 
I  saw,  in  the  midst  of  her  rags  and  poverty,  a  countenance 
of  rare  childish  beauty.  In  her  little  chilled  hands  she 
held  a  broom,  with  which  she  had  been  making  preten- 
sions to  sweep  the  crossing;  but  it  must  have  been  an 
arduous  and  unavailing  task,  for  the  fierce  wind  blew 
keenly,  and  every  now  and  then  whirled  a  wreath  of 
snow  to  occupy  the  place  cleared  for  the  moment  by  the 
little  sweeper.  Her  garments  were  clean,  so  far  as  I  could 
judge,  but  although  whole,  they  were  almost  made  up  of 
shreds  and  patches,  and  shocking  to  relate,  in  that  bitter 
night,  with  the  fresh  snow  an  inch  in  depth,  on  a  level 
with  the  pavement,  her  little  feet  were  bare. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  a  greater  degree  of  sensibility  than 
most  men,  and  the  night  was  one  that  urged  upon  my 
feelings  in  the  most  sensitive  manner,  to  hasten  home  to 
my  own  fireside ;  for  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge  in  half 
an  hour's  brisk  walk,  this  poor  child  and  I  were  the  only 
living  creatures  abroad.  Still,  however,  I  could  not  help 
stopping  for  a  moment,  and  asking  how  it  was  that  she 
was  abroad  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  and  such  a  night  I 

"  My  mother  is  sick  in  bed,  sir,"  she  replied,  in  trem- 
bling accents,  while  her  teeth  fairly  chattered  in  her  head, 
as  she  essayed  to  speak;  and  her  voice  was  choked  with 
emotion,  as  the  tears  burst  forth  from  her  eyelids,  on  be 
ing  questioned  in  tones  of  kindness ;  "  my  mother  is  sick 
in  bed,  and  has  had  nothing  to  eat  to-day,  and  I  could  not 
go  home  without  carrying  her  something  to  eat,  for  she 
is  starving,  and  the  money  you  have  just  given  me  is  all 
that  I  have  received  to-day,  although  I  have  been  all  day 
at  the  crossing,  and  a  hundred  gentlemen  have  hurried 
by,  too  busy  to  pay  any  attention  to  me." 

'•Good  God !"  I  exclaimed,  "  a  child  so  young  abroad 
on  such  a  night,  on  so  dismal  an  errand.  Why,  my  lit- 
tle girl,  how  old  are  you?" 

"  Eleven  years,  sir,"  she  replied. 

"  And  where  does  your  mother  live  ?" 

"  In  Orange-street,  sir,"  replied  the  child.  "  She  has 
a  room  there  in  a  garret;  but  the  landlord  threatens  to 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  53 

turn  her  out  in  the  street  unless  she  pays  her  rent,  and 
then  she  will  die,"  and  the  poor  child  burst  into  tears. 

I  knew  the  locality  had  a  bad  name,  even  at  the  period 
of  which  I  write,  although  I  had  never  visited  it,  and  so 
prone  are  we  to  suspicion,  that  even  then,  I  had  doubts 
as  to  the  truth  of  the  simple  story;  but  it  was  not 
in  the  nature  of  humanity  to  resist  the  child's  appeal  for 
aid ;  and  late  as  was  the  hour,  and  gloomy  and  dreary 
as  was  the  night,  and  anxiously  as  I  knew  my  wife  would 
be  to  greet  my  arrival  at  home,  I  could  not  resist  an  im- 
pulse to  go  to  the  poor  girl's  home,  ascertain  the  truth 
of  her  statement,  and  render  such  aid  as  lay  in  my  power, 
should  I  find,  as  I  had  little  doubt  I  should  do,  that  her 
statements  were  correct. 

Taking  the  poor  little  thing  in  my  arms,  therefore,  and 
wrapping  her  half  frozen  feet  in  the  folds  of  my  cloak, 
I  walked  in  the  direction  of  Orange-street,  the  child  sob- 
bing on  my  shoulder,  as  though  her  little  heart  would 
break. 

I  had  not  far  to  walk,  when,  guided  by  the  direc- 
tions of  the  shivering  child,  I  soon  found  myself  peram- 
bulating dark  dirty  narrow  streets,  that  until  then  I  had 
no  idea  existed.  From  some  of  the  wretched  houses  that 
I  passed  issued  sounds  of  boisterous  merriment,  mingled 
with  curses  loud  and  deep — horrid  blasphemies  which 
fell  terrifically  upon  the  tympanum  of  rny  ears,  and 
which  caused  my  shivering  burthen  to  creep  closer  to 
me  and  to  bury  her  head  upon  my  breast.  "  How  is  it 
possible,"  I  thought,  "  that  so  frail  and  fair  a  child  as 
this  can  have  become  an  inmate  of  such  habitations  as 
these!" 

From  other  dwellings,  the  doors  and  windows  of  which 
were  bioken,  and  which  stood  in  various  angles  of  erec- 
tion, as  though  some  earthquake  had  shaken  them  from 
their  original  foundations,  issued  sounds  of  lamentation 
and  woe,  mingled  with  the  shrieks  of  women  and  the 
wail  of  childhood — and  still  the  keen  wind  whistled  up 
the  dark  alleys,  and  ever  and  anon  came  forth  from  some 
dark  orifice  a  drift  of  sleet  that  cut  upon  my  skin  like 

5* 


54  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

the  pricking  of  needles,  and  almost  blinded  me  as  the 
sharp  particles  struck  against  my  half-closed  eyelids. 

At  length  by  the  direction  of  the  child,  I  stopped  at 
a  miserable  tenement,  situated  at  the  present  junction 
of  Orange-street  and  the  Five  Points,  on  the  Broadway 
side,  and  here  I  set  down  my  burden  and  bade  her  con- 
duct me  to  the  abode  of  her  sick  mother. 

We  ascended  a  rickety  stair-case  to  the  topmost  story 
of  the  dwelling,  which  appeared  to  be  inhabited  by 
numerous  families,  for  as  we  passed  by  the  doors  of  the 
filthy  apartments,  curious,  squalid  faces  of  ragged,  half- 
clothed  men,  women,  and  children,  peered  forth  to  see 
who  the  unaccustomed  stranger  was,  and  so  brutalized 
were  some  of  these  faces  that  I  felt  glad  when  I  had 
passed  them,  and  scarcely  felt  safe  in  the  dwelling,  as  for 
aught  I  knew  or  saw,  I  might  be  robbed  or  murdered, 
and  it  never  would  have  been  known  what  had  been  my 
fate. 

At  length  we  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  small  attic 
chamber,  which  the  child  entered,  and  requested  me  to 
follow  her,  first  tapping  gently  at  the  door  and  saying : 

"  It's  only,  me ;  mother  I  have  come  home  and  brought 
a  kind  gentleman  with  me  who  says  he  will  give  us 
something  to  eat." 

I  have  often  witnessed  scenes  of  misery  and  destitution, 
in  my  long  course  of  gratuitous  practice  among  the  poor; 
but  I  never  saw  anything  before  or  since,  which  struck 
me  with  such  a  sudden  feeling  of  commiseration  as  did 
this. 

There  was  neither  fire  nor  light  in  the  room,  but  the 
snow  from  the  roofs  of  the  houses  without,  reflected  a 
faint  glimmer  of  light  sufficient  for  me  to  perceive  a  heap 
of  bedding  lying  in  one  corner  of  the  narrow  floor,  but 
I  could  distinguish  no  other  furniture  in  the  room  except 
what  appeared  in  the  dim  light  to  be  a  broken  chair. 

A  light  was  the  first  thing  for  which  I  sought ;  but 
none  was  to  be  had,  and  I  sent  the  poor  child  out  to  buy 
a  penny  candle,  which  she  lighted,  on  her  return,  from 
one  of  the  dim  candles  which  were  burning  in  some  of 


STRAY  LEAVES  TROM   MY  JOURNAL.  55 

the  rooms  below.  Then  I  saw  the  utter  wretchedness 
of  the  scene. 

That  which  I  had  taken  to  be  a  bundle  of  bedding  on 
the  floor  was  the  figure  of  a  female,  evidently  in  the  last 
stage  of  attenuation,  who  was  stretched  upon  a  piece  of 
coarse  matting  and  covered  over  with  a  heap  of  patched 
bagging,  while  a  broken  rush-bottomed  chair  was  in 
reality  the  only  other  article  of  furniture  in  the  apart- 
ment. The  walls  of  the  room  were  mildewed  with  damp, 
and  there  were  crevices  in  the  walls  which  admitted  the 
driving  sleet,  which  melted  and  ran  in  a  thin  stream  on 
the  floor,  while  the  only  small  window  had  several  of  the 
narrow  panes  broken  and  stuffed  up  with  pieces  of 
rag. 

I  turned  my  attention  to  the  prostrate  female  who 
amidst  all  her  squalor  shewed  traces  of  having  been  pos- 
sessed of  extraordinary  beauty,  and  as  she  in  a  faint 
voice  and  with  great  difficulty  endeavored  to  thank  me 
for  my  visit,  her  tone  was  one  of  that  singular  sweetness, 
which  I  have  noticed  never  lingers  long  in  the  female 
voice,  when  its  possessor  has  given  herself  up  to  dissipa- 
tion and  debauchery.  While  I  was  thinking  how  I  could 
best  relieve  the  distress  I  was  thus  unexpectedly  a  wit- 
ness of,  the  door  of  the  room  was  rudely  burst  open  and 
an  ill-conditioned  man  entered  and  coarsely  demanded 
the  week's  rent  from  the  child,  who  replied  that  she 
could  not  pay  it :  that  she  had  been  abroad  the  whole 
day  and  had  only  earned  three  or  four  cents.  « 

"  Then  out  you  must  bundle  to-night,"  said  the  brute, 
"  no  one  can  remain  here  who  will  not  pay  my  rent. 
Come,  no  crying.  That's  all  gammon.  Don't  tell  me 
you  haven't  earned  enough  this  week  to  pay  the  rent  of 
this  room;  that  game  won't  do  here." 

"  My  poor  child  has  not  earned  enough  to  provide 
herself  with  the  coarsest  food,"  gasped  forth  the  sick 
woman. 

"  What  the  h — 1  is  that  to  me,"  answered  the  savage; 
"  starve  and  be  d — d.  I  must  and  will  have  my  rent. — 
Who  is  this?"  said  he,  turning  to  tno  with  a  savage  scowl 


56  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

M| 

upon  his  face — "  a  parson,  eh  !     Well,  make  the  parsoc 
trump  up,  or  I'll  soon  make  you  all  bundle  oat." 

'*  How  much  is  the  rent  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Fifty  cents.  They  owe  me  for  two  weeks,"  replied 
the  wretch. 

"  Here  is  your  money,  and  now  can  you  not  bring  a 
little  fire  into  the  room,  while  I  send  the  poor  child  for 
some  food  ?"  said  I,  taking  the  coin  from  my  pocket. 

"Fire  costs  money,  and  those  who  can't  pay  for  it, 
must  go  without  it,"  said  the  man. 

"  For  God's  sake  go  and  get  some  fire,"  said  I,  putting 
more  silver  into  his  hand,  which  he  pocketed  greedily, 
saying — 

"  Why,  parson,  you  have  sprung  a  gold  mine.  Have 
you  got  many  of  these  shiners  about  you  ?" 

"Go  and  bring  the  fire.  You  have  your  money,  and 
that's  enough,"  I  replied. 

With  a  cunning  leer  upon  his  face,  he  left  the  room, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  returned  with  a  pan  of  lighted 
charcoal,  which  he  capsized  into  the  small,  rusty  grate 
that  was  set  into  the  wall,  and  which  appeared  to  have 
been  unused  for  many  a  day. 

Meanwhile  I  had  sent  the  child  for  some  bread  and 
other  articles  of  provision,  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  on 
her  return  I  allowed  her  to  eat  to  her  heart's  content, 
while  I  administered  to  the  sick  woman  such  a  portion 
of  the  food  as  I  thought  her  stomach  could  bear  with 
safety. 

I  remained  with  them  for  an  hour,  when  having  left  a 
little  money  for  their  .immediate  necessities,  I  bethought 
me  of  .returning  home. 

I  had  previously  learnt  from  the  sick  woman,  her  brief 
history — for  when  she  had  partaken  of  a  glass  of  the 
wine,  mingled  with  water,  and  had  taken  also  what  I 
considered  a  sufficient  quantity  of  food,  she  spoke  more 
freely. 

She  had  twelve  years  before  fallen  in  love  with  a  poor 
music  teacher,  being  then  but  sixteen  years  of  age,  the 
teacher  having  come  to  the  house  of  her  guardian,  who 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  57 

was  a  merchant  residing  in  Bleecker-street,  as  her  musi- 
cal instructor.  She  had  early  been  left  an  orphan,  and 
by  a  provision  in  her  father's  will,  if  she  married  before 
the  age  of  twenty -five,  without  her  guardian's  consent,  the 
property  was  to  fall  to  him. 

In  the  carelessness  of  youth,  when  blinded  by  senti- 
ments of  love,  she  had  not  heeded  this — nekaer  had  her 
guardian  very  urgently  endeavored  to  prevent  her  fol- 
lowing the  bent  of  her  inclinations,  for  obvious  reasons. 

She  married,  and  her  cruel  guardian  had  claimed  her 
fortune. 

For  a  time  all  went  on  well.  "While  she  had  sufficient 
to  sustain  existence,  with  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
given  her  affections,  she  said  she  cared  little  for  the  for- 
tune she  had  been  despoiled  of;  but  evil  days  soon  came. 
Her  husband  sickened  and  died,  and  then  she,  left  a 
widow,  with  an  infant,  a  year  old,  humbled  herself  in  her 
sorrow  before  her  guardian,  and  sought  assistance  from 
him. 

This  he  roughly — nay,  cruelly  refused,  and  bade  her 
never  again  enter  his  doors. 

She  betook  herself  to  needle-work  to  earn  a  living  for 
herself  and  child,  and  for  some  years  managed  to  earn  at 
least  a  comfortable  subsistence;  but  she  fell  a  prey  to 
consumption,  and  at  length  was  totally  unable  to  work. 
Daily  she  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and  at  length  was 
glad  to  find  shelter  in  a  place  from  which  she  would 
have  recoiled  a  few  months  before  with  a  sensation  of 
horror,  while  her  poor  child  swept  crossings  and  ran  of 
errands  to  earn  the  few  cents  daily  which  kept  them 
from  utter  starvation. 

"And  the  name  of  the  merchant?"  I  asked. 

"  Mr. ,"  she  replied. 

"Good  God,"  said  I,  "I  have  attended  him  at  his 
house  to-day.  He  is  dying,  and  I  fear  can  scarcely  live 
over  the  morrow  ;"  so  saying,  after  having  seen  them  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  I  left  the  house,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  was  glad  again  to  find  myself  in  Broadway. 

I  told  the  sad  tale  to  my  wife  that  night,  who  (God 


. 

58  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

bless  her)  immediately  proposed  that  the  sick  woman 
and  her  daughter  should  be,  at  least  for  the  time  being, 
brought  to  our  house,  and  they  were  removed  from  their 
polluted  abode  on  the  following  day. 

The  same  day  I  called  on  my  patient  in  Bleecker- 
street,  and  found  him,  as  I  expected,  near  his  end.  He 
was  perfectly  sensible,  and  evidently  something  was 
preying  upon  his  mind.  By  degrees  I  brought  about  the 
sad  tale  of  the  preceding  day.  When  I  had  briefly  told 
all,  the  dying  man  started  up  in  bed  as  if  endowed  with 
supernatural  strength,  and  glared  at  me  wildly. 

"Mary  S.  dying!"  he  said;  "she  whom  I  have  so 
foully  wronged.  Doctor,  I  forged  that  clause  in  her  fa- 
ther's will,  and  I  have  brought  her  to  this  sad  end ;  but 
she  has  been  revenged.  What  good  hasher  wealth  done 
to  me  ?  My  son,  for  whose  sake  I  dared  the  villainy,  is 
raving  in  a  mad-house,  (such  was  in  fact  the  case,)  my- 
self struck  down  in  my  prime  and  in  my  pride  of  wealth 
and  station,  falsely  acquired,  by  the  hand  of  an  avenging 
God.  Quick,  Doctor — that  escrutoire — the  will — quick — 
I  am  dying." 

I  opened  the  escrutoire  to  which  he  had  pointed,  and 
there,  sure  enough,  were  two  copies  of  a  will,  fac-similes 
of  each  other,  written  on  parchment,  with  the  only  dif- 
ference that  one  contained  the  forged  clause. 

I  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  the  sufferer,  who  had  sunk 
back  exhausted  upon  his  pillow.  He  had  but  just 
strength  to  gasp  forth — "Doctor — see  justice  done — I — 
am — dying;"  and  placing  his  index  finger  on  the  clause, 
he  uttered  the  single  sentence  "  Oh  God ! — I  am  a  dead 
man — forgery,"  and  immediately  expired. 

This  work  of  justice  was  simple  enough  to  effect — for 
the  unhappy  man  had  left  no  heirs  but  his  insane  son. — 
A  blight  had  fallen  on  all  connected  with  him,  while 
still  he  had  grown  in  wealth — an  unjust  steward  still 
compelled  to  heap  up  wealth  for  the  ultimate  use  of  its 
lawful  owners. 

Poor  Mary  S.  was  too  far  gone  in  the  fatal  disease 
which  ravaged  her  frame,  for  medical  aid  to  avail  her, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  69 

and  she  died  at  my  house  about  a  month  after  the  above- 
mentioned  events ;  leaving  her  child  to  my  guardianship. 
She  grew  up  a  beautiful  girl  and  married  an  English  offi- 
cer stationed  in  Canada.  When  last  I  heard  from  her — 
for  she  still  keeps  up  a  correspondence  with  her  old  guard- 
ian— she  was  living  in  her  husband's  country  house  in 
Cumberland,  and  was  the  happy  mother  of  a  large  fami- 
ly of  children — the  eldest  of  whom  was  just  on  the  point 
of  marriage.  So,  happily,  was  my  dreary  walk  on  that 
cold  December  night,  the  means,  through  Providence,  of 
obtaining  that  justice  to  the  unfortunate,  which  otherwise 
might  forever  have  slept 


60  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OK, 


CHAPTER   V 

MY   HOUSE    ON    CANAL-STREET,    AND   MY    NEIGHBORS ;    A    STORY    OP 
ILL-REQUITED    LOVE,    AND    SUICIDE. 

I  HAD  been  two  or  three  years  in  practice  in  New  York, 
and  had  removed  from  my  location  on  the  Battery,  and 
had  taken  a  house  in  Canal-street ;  a  street  which,  although 
it  is  situated  right  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  was  then  con- 
sidered quite  an  uptown  residence. 

Among  the  friends  we  had  made  during  our  sojourn 

in  New  York,  was  the  family  of  Mrs.  K ,  a  widow 

lady,  the  relict  of  a  lawyer  of  no  little  note  in  his  profes- 
sion. Mrs.  K had  two  daughters.  Mary,  at  the  time 

I  first  knew  her,  had  just  arrived  at  the  delightful  age  of 
eighteen,  when  the  girl  is  just  bursting  into  womanhood, 
with  the  freshly  assumed  matronly  demeanor  of  the  lat- 
ter— so  much  the  more  delightful,  because  it  sits  so  un- 
easily and  seems  ready  upon  any  excuse,  to  rush  back 
again  into  the  happy  current  of  girlhood's  joyous  care- 
lessness— while  the  free  frolicksomeuess  of  girlhood  still 
remains,  and  the  merry  laugh,  like  a  silver  bell,  sounds 
more  delightful  music  than  Jullien  ever  produced  from 
his  monster  orchestra,  lingering  far  longer  in  the  memo- 
ry than  the  sweetest  notes  that  prima  donna  ever 
sang. 

Ah !  those  girls ;  at  this  enchanting  period  of  their 
lives  they  little  know,  and  yet  I  think  the  dear  little 
witches  do  know  after  all,  what  power  they  exercise  over 
the  feelings  of  the  sterner  sex.  The  veriest  miser  can't 
keep  his  purse-strings  tight,  when  such  pretty  music 
sounds  upon  his  ears,  and  such  bright  eyes  seem  to  plead 
so  earnestly,  and  to  look  so  trustingly,  to  his  nervous 
arm  for  protection,  and  to  his  plethoric  purse  for  the  lit- 
tle trifles  which  give  them  such  pleasure,  and  which  he 
is  ten  times  overpaid  for  by  one  glance  of  thankfulness 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  61 

from  those  sparkling  orbs.  I  am  an  old  man  now,  and 
am  privileged  to  say  what  I  please,  and  I  will  assert  that 
I  have  seen  old  bachelors  who  have  forsworn  marriage — 
.  the  doited  fools — because,  forsooth !  they  could  not  ob- 
tain at  any  moment,  the  girl  they  had  set  their  ^hearts 
upon  in  their  youthful  days — fairly  wriggle  in  their  chairs 
when  the  pretty  chime  of  the  voices  of  half  a  dozen 
young  women  have  floated  past  their  ears,  seeming  to 
realize  in  the  silly  old  fellows'  heads  the  happiness  they 
might  have  attained  to,  had  they,  in  their  younger  days, 
listened  to  the  voice  of  reason  rather  than  passion.  I 
am,  as  I  have  said,  an  old  man  myself,  and  the  frosts  of 
many  winters  have  whitened  the  hairs  of  my  head,  and 
yet  I  cannot  witness  the  pastime  of  a  group  of  happy 
girls  unmoved;  but  I  turn  to  my  wife,  who  sits  beside 
me,  and  though  we  are  shortsighted,  and  both  wear 
spectacles,  still  we  look  at  each  other  through  those 
spectacles,  while  she,  perhaps,  gives  me  a  gentle  squeeze 
of  the  hand,  which  sends  the  blood  thrilling  through  my 
veins,  and  renews  within  me  the  heyday  of  youth  and 
youth's  hopes,  fears  and  heart- worshippings.  If  some 
whom  I  know  among  my  bachelor  friends  were  only  to 
feel  that  tender  pressure  and  feel  the  power  of  that  glance 
of  mutual  love,  albeit  it  came  through  the  focus  of  two 
pair  of  gold  spectacles,  forsooth  !  the  old  fellows  would 
marry  their  cookmaids,  if  they  could  get  no  one  else  to 
have  them,  in  their  doited  old  age,  sooner  than  any  lon- 
ger forego  the  pleasures  of  a  married  life. 

But  to  return  to  my  subject,  (although  when  I  get  oft' 
in  a  digression  on  this  subject,  I  am  wont  to  be  so  silly, 
as  my  wife  says,  that  she  gives  me  a  gentle  tap  with  her 
fan.  It  is  one  that  her  grandmother  brought  from  Eng- 
land, when  she  landed  with  the  pilgrim  fathers  on  Ply- 
mouth rock,  and  is  probably  the  only  heirloom  of  the 
vanities  of  European  aristocracy — for  her  grandmother 
was  a  great  lady,  she  tells  me,  bed-chambermaid  to  George 
the  Second,  or  something  of  that  sort — that  has  been 
handed  down  to  succeeding  generations,  in  this  republican 
country,  and  she  asks  whether  she  is  not  worth  al)  the 

6 


62  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

Marys  and  Phillises,  and  other  pretty  names  of  old-re 
membered  sweethearts,  and  I  am  fain  to  say  yes,  and  tc 
tell  her  that  she  is  the  light  of  my  declining  years.) 

But  I  am  digressing  again.  Mary  was  as  I  have  said — • 
the  eldest  daughter  of  Mrs.  K.,  and  she  was  just  verging 
upon  eighteen,  and  Agnes,  her  second  daughter  and  only 
remaining  child,  was  thirteen ;  a  sweet  little  fairy  whom, 
when  I  first  became  acquainted  with  her,  I  used  to  treat  as 
a  pet.  She  was  a  vast  favorite  with  my  wife,  who  thought 
her  one  of  the  dearest  children  she  had  ever  met  with, 
always  excepting  our  own  little  cherub,  who  at  that  time 

had  just  completed  her  first  year.     Mary  K was  a 

staid,  gentle,  pretty,  modest  girl,  a  little  reserved  in  man- 
ner, and  so  prudent  and  careful  that  I  had  no  fear  of  her 
future.  I  knew  she  was  just  the  girl  to  gain  a  husband 
after  her  own  heart,  and  I  used  to  call  her  my  rose,  and 
little  Agnes  my  lily.  Poor  little,  fragile  being !  I  al- 
ways had  a  sort  of  presentiment  that  little  Agnes's  im- 
pulsive feelings  would  be  the  cause  of  sorrow  to  her  in 
after  life,  and  so,  poor  little  creature,  it  turned  out;  but 
I  am  forestalling  my  history.  At  the  period,  of  which  I 

speak,  Mary  E had  contracted  a  happy  marriage 

with  a  merchant  doing  business  in  Third-street,  Philadel- 
phia, and  to  that  city  she  had  gone  with  her  husband  to 
reside,  and  Agnes,  then  in  her  seventeenth  year,  was  re- 
siding with  her  mother,  in  the  next  house  but  one  to 
mine,  on  Canal-street. 

The  war  which  had  so  long  kept  our  then  youthful 
country  in  a  state  of  turmoil,  had  been  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion, and  something  like  peace  and  quietness  was 
restored,  and  the  excitement  which  had  so  long  reigned 
in  the  breasts  of  all  parties  had  cooled  down. 

Some  few  English  officers,  who,  as  is  pretty  generally 
known,  belong  chiefly  to  the  aristocratic  classes,  had 
been  taken  prisoners  and  kept  as  hostages  in  the  city  of 
New  York.  Among  these  there  was  a  Captain  Monta- 
gue, of  the  army,  who,  possessing  a  very  handsome  person 
and  great  fascination  of  manner,  did  not  fail  to  find 
friends  even  while  a  prisoner,  on  parole,  in  the  land  of  a 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  63 

foe  fighting  for  their  rights.  Indeed,  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  very  fact  of  his  being  a  prisoner  of  war,  united  of 
course  with  his  distingue  appearance,  and  that  air  of  im- 
ported fashion  which  had  not  begun  to  show  itself,  or 
barely  so,  among  our  Broadway  beaux,  did  not  give  him, 
in  the  eyes  of  my  fair  countrywomen,  an  especial  claim 
to  their  pity,  and  we  all  know  that,  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, pity  is  near  akin  to  love.  Besides,  he  be- 
longed to  a  branch  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
families  of  the  old  country.  His  mother  was  a  baroness 
in  her  own  right,  and  his  father  was  an  eminent  judge 
of  the  Court  of  Chancery.  This  young  man,  whose  name 
was  Howard  Montague,  and  who  held  the  commission 
of  captain  in  His  Majesty's  service,  albeit  the  down  had 
yet  scarcely  begun  to  bloom  upon  his  cheeks  and  chin, 
by  some  means  or  other  became  acquainted  with  the 
family  of  Mrs.  K.,  and  glad  of  any  opportunity  to  dispel 
his  ennui,  in  the  society  of  young  ladies,  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  at  K.'s  house,  and  soon  made  sad  havoc  with 
the  heart  of  the  youngest  and  only  unmarried  daughter. 
To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  so  handsome,  danced  so  nicely, 
curled  his  whiskers  so  beautifully,  and  wore  such  a  su- 
perb bkick  mustache,  and  such  a  becoming  uniform,  that 
many  a  fair  belle  in  the  street  envied  Agnes  when  she 
walked  abroad  so  often,  and  had  such  especial  attention 
shown  her  by  the  young  English  soldier.  Besides,  he 
made  her  such  handsome  presents  that  they  were  the 
envy  of  all  the  young  ladies  of  her  acquaintance ;  for, 
although  in  the  then  state  of  affairs  no  money  could  reach 
him  from  England,  he  appeared  to  have  brought  a  mine 
of  wealth  with  him,  and  never  was  in  want  of  money 
when  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  make  a  liberal  expen- 
diture. 

Poor,  simple,  confiding  Agnes ;  she  believed  all  her 
soldier  lover  whispered, in  her  ear,  and  no  doubt  he  too, 
for  the  time,  thought  and  felt  that  he  was  telling  the 
truth,  and  really  felt  towards  her  a  temporary  passion 
of  the  most  ardent  nature.  In  fact  they  were  so  far  ad- 
vanced in  love  that  Captain  Montague  had  proposed,  and 


64  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

with  many  blushes  on  the  part  of  Miss  Agnes,  had  been 
referred  to  Mama,  who  had  likewise  given  her  consent, 
and  it  was  looked  upon  by  the  friends  of  the  family  as  a 
grand  match  for  Agnes,  and  though  some  envious  folks 
said  that  they  did  not  approve  of  her  thus  plighting  hei 
troth  to  a  man  who  was  in  fact  a  sworn  enemy  at  that 
period,  to  the  liberties  of  her  country,  there  was,  perhaps, 
not  one  of  these  carping  young  ladies  who  would  not 
have  been  very  glad,  could  she  have  gained  the  prize 
that  all  thought  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  Agnes.  Not 
that  Agnes  was  wanting  in  patriotism.  I  liked  to  hear 
the  pretty,  gentle  girl,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling  with  spirit, 
boldly  assert  that  her  countrymen  had  decidedly  the 
right  on  their  side,  and  she  was  responded  to,  half  petu- 
lantly, half  pleased,  by  the  young  soldier,  who  admired 
the  spirit  of  independence  shown  by  his  betrothed,  the 
more  especially  as  these  little  discussions  always  ended 
by  Agnes  saying,  when  they  were  about  to  part: 

"  Never  mind,  Howard,  I  am  an  American  girl,  you 
know,  and  as  long  as  this  cruel  war  lasts,  I  shall  assert 
my  own  opinion ;  but  when  peace  comes,  I  shall  forget 
all  about  the  troubles,  and  perhaps  by  and  by  I  shall  be- 
come quite  as  much  an  English  woman  as  ever  you  could 
desire." 

"  My  pretty,  Anglicized  American  wife,"  was  usually 
the  reply  of  Captain  Montague ;  and  then  he  would  bid 
us  good-night,  and  walk  into  the  hall  to  put  on  his  hat 
and  gloves — and  generally  speaking  they  were  not  to  be 
found  until  Agnes  went  out  to  look  for  them,  and  more 
than  once,  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  1  detected  some- 
thing like  the  sound  of  a  kiss  and  muttered  whisperings 
that  were  evidently  intended  for  only  one  person's  ear. 

At  length  the  war  was  brought  to  a  conclusion,  and 
Captain  Montague  had  full  and  free  permission  to  return 
home ;  but  he  did  not  immediately  avail  himself  of  it. 
He  evidently  loved  Agnes  too  well  to  think  of  leaving 
her,  until  the  last  moment,  to  undertake  a  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic,  at  a  period  when  it  was  not  such  a  pleasure 
trip  as  it  is  now,  and  Messrs.  Collins  and  Co.,  or  theii 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM!  MY  JOURNAL.  65 

worthy  rivals  had  formed  no  conception   of  the  mam 
moth  steamships  which   now  perform  the  journey  of 
three  thousand  miles  across  the  trackless  ocean  waste  with 
more  regularity  than  in  those  days  the  post-boy  brought 
a  letter  from  Philadelphia. 

Montague  wrote  home  to  his  parents  and  requested  a 
remittance  ;  but  instead  of  himself  hurrying  home  as  he 
might  have  fairly  been  expected  to  do,  under  the  circum- 
stances, he  contented  himself  with  remaining  in  New 
York  and  spending  now  almost  the  whole  of  his  time 
with  Agnes.  One  evening  there  was  a  small  family  par- 
ty at  Mrs.  K's  house,  consisting  of  myself  and  my  wife, 
and  Captain  Montague,  and  Alary  and  her  husband,  who 
had  come  from  Philadelphia,  on  some  special  occasion,  I 
forget  now  what,  but  it  was  a  birthday,  or  the  anniver- 
sary of  a  wedding-day,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and 
we  were  all  in  high  spirits.  Howard  was  sitting  on  the 
sofa  with  his  betrothed  bride,  whispering  honeyed  nonsense 
in  her  willing  ears ;  for  from  the  delicate  blush  which 
suffused  her  cheeks,  and  the  liquid  trembling  of  her 
large  blue  eyes,  she  was  evidently  pleased  with  the  low 
deep-toned  words  with  which  the  young  soldier  was  ad- 
dressing her.  The  remainder  of  the  party,  myself  inclu- 
ded, were  enjoying  a  round  game  of  chess,  purposely 
leaving  the  young  couple  to  the  enjoyment  of  that  which 
they  no  doubt  prized  more  highly  than  the  wearisome 
cards. 

Suddenly  I  bethought  me  of  a  piece  of  intelligence  I 
had  heard  during  my  visits  of  that  day,  which  was,  that 
the  English  mail  ship  was  reported  to  have  been  off  Sandy 
Hook  early  in  the  morning. 

''You  are  awaiting  intelligence  from  England  ?"  said 
I,  addressing  Howard. 

"  Yes,"  he  hastily  replied ;-  "  but  the  vessel  is  long 
making  her  appearance  with  the  mails  ;  yet  it  gives  me 
so  much  the  more  time  here  where  there  is  an  attraction 
without  which  home  would  be  insupportable,"  added  he, 
pressing  the  hand  of  Agnes,  which  he  held  within  his 
own,  and  Agnes  gave  him  in  return  such  a  trustful  look, 

6* 


66  THE  OLD  DOCTOE;  OR, 

that  I  have  often  wondered  how  it  was  possible  he  could 
have  spurned  such  devoted  love,  and  rejected  such  a  wile 
as  she  would  have  made  him. 

There  is  an  old  English  adage,  which,  translated  into 
French,  in  order  that  we  may  not  offend  ears  polite,  says 
"  Parlez  du  diable  et  il  parait,  and  scarcely  had  the  words 
fallen  from  my  lips,  when  a  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the 
hall  door,  which  was  opened  by  the  servant. 

It  was  the  postman. 

"  Is  there  such  a  person  here  as  the  Right  Honorable 
the  Earl  of  Wilton?"  we  heard  issue  from  the  rough 
voice  of  the  man  of  letters,  '•  Captain  in  his  Majesty's 

foot.  It's  a  strange,  new-fangled  way  of  addressing 

a  letter,  and  I  never  before  carried  such  a  one,"  added 
the  man. 

"  No,  shure,"  replied  the  girl,  for  even  in  those  days  a 
good  many  Irish  servants  were  in  New  York.  "  There's 
no  such  name  as  lives  here  ;  there's  a  soger  officer  in 
the  room  with  misthress,  but  that's  not  his  name." 

"  I  was  at  the  hotel  to  which  the  letter  was  directed," 
repeated  the  man,  "  and  they  sent  me  round  here.  This 
I  am  sure  is  the  number  of  the  house." 

Captain  Montague  turned  slightly  pale,  and  then  said, 
suddenly — 

"  Surely  it  cannot  be  possible  that  my  uncle  and  father 
are* both  dead:  for  then  the  earldom  would  certainly  de- 
volve upon  me  ;"  and  hastily  rising,  he  himself  went  into 
the  passage  and  took  the  letter  from  the  man. 

"  For  me  sure  enough,"  said  he,  as  he  returned  into  the 
room.  "  It  is  in  my  mother's  handwriting,  and  sealed 
with  black  wax,  on  which  is  stamped  the  Earl's  coronet 
and  shield." 

Somewhat  nervously  he  broke  open  the  seal,  and  after 
perusing  the  letter,  not  without  considerable  emotion, 
which  he  tried  to  hide,  he  added  :  "  It  is  true,  my  uncle 
and  father  have  both  been  dead  some  months,  and  I  am 
the  heir  to  the  earldom.  My  lady  mother  desires  my  re- 
turn to  England  with  all  possible  dispatch,  and  sorry  as 
I  am  to  quit  the  friends  I  have  made  here,  it  will  be  my 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  67 

imperative  duty  to  obey  her  ladyship's  behests."  A  so- 
lemn silence  reigned  in  the  apartment,  and  for  some  mo- 
ments young  Montagu  appeared  to  feel  deeply  the  loss 
of  his  father;  but  the  high  rank  to  which  he  had  so  un- 
expectedly attained,  following  so  shortly  after  his  release 
from  parole,  quickly  had  the  effect  of  subduing  his  grief, 
and  he  became  the  liveliest  of  the  party. 

Agnes  looked  pale  and  discomfited.  Poor  girl — she 
seemed  to  have  a  foreboding  that  the  rank  to  which  her 
affianced  lover  had  been  raised,  would  be  destructive  to 
her  hopes  and  her  trustful  love ;  but  Montagu  having 
named  the  day  of  his  departure,  quickly  restored  the 
bloom  of  her  fair  cheek  by  his  cheerful  conversation  re- 
specting the  arrangements  he  intended  making  at  home, 
and  when  he  rose  to  go  to  his  hotel,  he  playfully  said, 
placing  his  hand  caressingly  upon  the  auburn  ringlets  of 
the  blushing  girl : 

"  What  will  the  English  folks  think  of  the  fair  Coun- 
tess I  have  picked  up  in  the  American  wilds  they  talk 
about  ?  I  warrant  she  will  bloom  the  fairest  of  the  fair 
at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  on  presentation  night.  Not 
among  all  the  beauties  that  England's  Court  can  pro- 
duce, is  there  one  that  can  vie,  in  my  fancy,  with  my 
own  Agnes.  That  is  a  gallant  speech,  now,  is  it  not? — 
Lady  Agnes  Wilton,"  added  he,  playfully  emphasizing 
the  last  words,  and  pressing  her  hand  and  gazing  into 
her  eyes  with  more  fondness  than  usual. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  the  vessel  in  which  the 
young  Earl  had  engaged  his  passage,  sailed ;  and,  mean 
while,  many  fond  interviews  had  taken  place  between  the 
affianced  lovers.  Lord  Wilton  was  to  write  immediately 
upon  his  arrival  in  England  ;  and  it  was  arranged  that  as 
soon  as  his  affairs  were  satisfactorily  settled,  that  he  was 
to  return  to  America,  marry  Agnes  and  take  his  bride 
and  her  mother  to  his  residence,  Wilton  Abbey,  in  York- 
shire. 

With  what  impatience  the  gentle  Agnes  awaited  her 
lover's  letter,  we  leave  our  fair  readers  to  imagine.  I 
know  how  I  used  to  look  for  a  letter  from  Susanna  every 


68  THE   OLD  DOCTOR,   OR, 

day,  when  I  was  only  a  few  miles  distant.  At  length 
the  letter  came,  as  it  happened,  while  I  was  in  the  house ; 
but  this  was  nothing  extraordinary — for  I  was  almost  a 
constant  visitor  at  the  widow  K.'s,  and  my  wife  busied 
herself,  as  women  will  do,  in  arranging  matters  for  Ag- 
nes's  approaching  wedding — for  we  had  not  the  slightest 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  young  soldier's  affection. 

Agnes  took  the  letter  from  the  hands  of  the  servant, 
blushing  amid  half  smiles,  half  tears,  and  immediately 
rushed  up  stairs  to  her  room  to  conceal  her  emotion  and 
to  peruse  its  contents  at  her  leisure. 

Anxiously  we  awaited  her  re-appearance;  but  she 
came  not,  and  her  mother  was  about  to  go  to  her  apart- 
ment, all  of  us  thinking  that  bashfulness  was  the  cause 
of  her  absenting  herself,  when  we  heard  a  noise  over 
head  as  some  one  falling  heavily  upon  the  floor.  Mrs. 

K hurried  up  stairs,  and  presently  a  frightful 

scream  caused  us  all  to  rush  to  the  room.  What  a  sight 
met  our  gaze.  The  beautiful  girl  whose  breast  but  a 
few  moments  before  had  been  palpitating  with  love  and 
hope,  lay  stretched  senseless  on  the  floor,  blood  issuing 
from  her  mouth  and  nostrils,  and  her  face  ashy  pale. 

"My  poor,  dear  Agnes,  oh  !  my  child,  my  dear  child! 
she  is  dead!"  cried  the  frantic  mother,  and  she  fainted 
in  the  arms  of  my  wife. 

With  the  assistance  of  a  servant  I  raised  Agnes  from 
the  floor  and  placed  her  on  the  bed.  I  found  that  she 
had  fallen  in  a  fit,  but  was  not  dead  as  I  at  first  antici- 
pated. 

I  immediately  opened  a  vein  and  she  shortly  returned 
to  some  degree  of  consciousness,  but  I  feared  her  reason 
had  fled.  1 

"  Oh,  Howard  !  Howard !  how  could  you  thus  cast  me 
off!"  she  saicl  once,  in  the  only  slight  interval  of  reason 
she  showed,  "the  letter — see  there — the  letter  !  Mother, 
read  that  letter !" 

The  letter,  which  had  been  the  cause  of  all  this  sad 
catastrophe,  was  from  the  Earl  of  Wilton,  and  it  briefly 
stated  that  his  mother  thought  it  advisable  that  the  silly 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  69 

match  which  he  had  amused  himself  with  to  pass  his 
weary  hours  in  America,  should  be  broken  off — that  he 
was  to  be  married  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  to  the 
daughter  of  a  noble  Marquis,  whose  name  it  is  not  ne- 
cessary for  me  to  disclose;  and,  dastardly,  perjured 
wretch  !  he  concluded  by  offering  a  present  of  £500  to 
provide  a  trousseau  for  Agnes'  wedding  with  a  husband 
whom  (again  I  say,  dastardly  wretch)  he  hoped  might 
prove  worthy  of  her. 

It  is  needless  to  say  how  this  intimation  was  received 

by  Mrs.  K .  Of  course  the  money  was  indignantly 

rejected,  and  the  stricken  widow  devoted  all  her  time 
and  attention  to  the  hapless  child  ;  but  reason  never  re- 
turned— she  would  moan  and  cry  and  laugh  by  turns, 
and  call  on  Howard  as  her  husband,  in  the  most  endear- 
ing terms,  and  then  at  other  times  fall  into  a  paroxysm  of 
fury  on  hearing  the  casual  mention  of  his  name.  So 
weeks,  aye,  months  passed  away.  Agnes  had  recovered 
her  bodily  health,  but  her  mind  was  gone  for  ever.  She 
more  than  once  showed  symptoms  of  a  desire  to  commit 
suicide ;  but  all  the  means  of  doing  so  awful  a  deed,  were 
A:ept  from  her. 

One  day,  however,  and  I  never  shall  forget  the  sensa- 
tion I  experienced,  I  was  sent  for  to  go  to  Mrs.  K 's 

house,  the  frightened  servant  merely  saying  that  Miss 
Agnes  had  taken  poison. 

"  Good  God  !"  I  exclaimed,  and  hurried  to  the  house, 
while  my  wife,  still  more  frightened,  hurriedly  followed 
me.  Alas  \  it  was  too  true.  The  poor  child  had  by 
some  means  obtained  a  bottle  of  laudanum,  which  her 
mother  kept  for  medical  purposes,  and  had  swallowed 
the  whole  contents.  I  applied  the  stomach-pump,  but 
in  vain.  Agnes  K was  beyond  the  reach  of  mor- 
tal aid. 

I  will  pass  over  the  scenes  which  followed,  and  the  de- 
scription of  the  funeral  of  the  hapless  and  lovely  victim 
of  Howard  Montagu's  treachery  ;  but  on  the  day  of  the 
funeral  I  received  a  London  paper,  which  announced  in 
glowing  terms  the  marriage  of  the  Earl  of  Wilton  with 


70  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

Lady  Sophie ,  at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square.    I 

threw  the  paper  from  me  with  rage,  and  pushed  it  into 
the  fire  until  the  whole  «of  it  was  consumed.  I  never 

dared  show  that  cursed  paragraph  to  Mrs.  K ,  or 

even  to  my  wife,  and  I  must  say  I  read  with  almost  fiend- 
ish joy,  about  six  months  afterwards,  in  the  London 
Times,  that  a  divorce  had  been  concluded  between  the 
Earl  of  Wilton  and  his  lady,  some  month  or  so  before, 
and  that  in  a  quarrel  arising  out  of  the  divorce — the  hus- 
band and  wife  it  appeared  had  been  at  variance  almost 
from  the  day  of  their  marriage — the  perjured  nobleman 
had  fallen  in  a  duel,  by  the  hand  of  his  wife's  brother. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  71 

CHAPTER   VI. 

% 

OUR  FIRST  SEARVANT'S  MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH. 

WHEN  my  wife  and  I  first  set  up  housekeeping,  we 
hired  a  servant  of  all  work  from  the  country;  a  hearty, 
healthy,  broad  shouldered  and  good  humored  girl  whom 
it  seemed  impossible  for  any  amount  of  work  to  over- 
power. She  remained  with  us  for  two  years,  and  so  far 
as  we  were  concerned  might,  had  she  lived  long  enough, 
have  remained  with  us  till  this  day,  for  she  proved  to  be 
an  excellent  servant ;  and  indeed  just  about  the  period  she 
left  us,  my  wife  was  thinking  of  making  her  work  fall 
easier  by  getting  another  girl  to  assist  in  the  rough  drud- 
gery of  the  household  duties,  as  just  then  fortune  had 
commenced  to  smile  upon  us,  rather  faintly,  to  be  sure, 
but  yet  sufficiently  to  inspire  a  sanguine  happy  young 
couple  with  trustful  hopes  of  the  future.  But  Helen  Daw- 
son,  though  she  acknowledged  she  was  very  happy  and 
comfortable  as  she  was,  like  most  other  young  women, 
thought  she  would  be  happier  still  if  she  changed  her 
name  into  Helen — something  else,  and  instead  of  remain- 
ing a  servant,  become  mistress  of  a  household,  however 
humble  it  might  be,  of  her  own.  In  plain  words  Helen 
fell  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  the  milkman — a  fresh 
colored,  good  looking  young  lad,  who  was  accustomed 
to  station  himself  in  his  cart  opposite  our  door  every 
morning,  and  oftentimes,  I  believe,  ring  Helen  out  of  her 
sleep  to  attend  his  sonorous  summons.  Not  a  very  sat- 
isfactory way  of  making  love,  some  of  the  readers  of 
these  reminiscences  will  think,  who  know  how  disagreea- 
ble it  is  to  be  awakened  suddenly  out  of  a  sound  sleep, 
and  compelled  to  jump  out  of  bed  and  hurry  on  one's 
clothes  without  having  time  even  to  turn  on  one's  pillow. 
And  not  a  very  presentable  attire — the  morning  gown 
and  slippers,  so  hastily  put  on,  without  time  to  do  more 


72  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

than  smooth  down  the  ruffled  hair  with  the  palms  of  the 
hands ;  but  there  is  an  old  and  homely  proverb  which 
infers  that  all  depends  upon  which  foot  touches  the  floor 
first,  as  regards  the  temper  of  the  suddenly  awakened 
sleeper,  during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  somehow 
or  other  Helen  was  one  of  those  happy  people  who  always 
and  under  any  circumstances,  manage  to  get  out  of  bed 
right  foot  foremost,  and  then,  although  she  was  rather 
more  stoutly  framed  than  the  majority  of  city  bred  ladies, 
she  possessed  a  very  neat,  well  made  figure,  which  did 
not  require  to  be  made  up  by  the  art  of  the  dress-maker 
and  milliner  to  render  her  presentable ;  and  not  being 
troubled  with  indigestion,  or  jaded  by  keeping  late  hours 
and  breathing  the  unwholesome  atmosphere  of  a  ball- 
room night  after  night,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with  city 
belles,  her  fair,  rosy  face  needed  no  cosmetics  to  hide  the 
pallor  of  the  complexion  beneath,  and  her  glossy  brown 
hair  naturally  smooth  and  silky,  and  always  well  brushed 
before  she  retired  to  rest,  (for  Helen  was,  like  all  young 
women,  of  lofty  or  lowly  condition,  proud  of  her  neat 
figure  and  pretty  face,  and  dark,  clustering,  natural  curls) 
needed  nothing  more  than  the  simple  toilet  I  have  men- 
tioned, to  make  it  look  as  neat  as  she  could  have  desired. 
So  perhaps  Helen,  in  her  simple  morning  attire,  her  face 
beaming  with  the  cheerfulness  of  health  and  a  smile  of 
good  nature,  looked  really  quite  as  pretty  or  prettier  than 
if  she  had  bestowed  hours  upon  her  toilet,  at  least  so 
thought  Harry  Thornby,  who  was  a  young  man  of  twen- 
ty-five, and  the  owner  of  a  few  acres  of  land  in  New  Jer- 
sey, a  few  miles  distant  from  the  city,  upon  which  he  kept 
some  dozen  cows,  and  who,  by  disposing  of  the  milk  and 
also  of  the  fruit  and  vegetables  he  cultivated  upon  his  lit- 
tle farm,  managed  to  earn  a  good  livelihood  ;  in  fact,  he 
had  begun  to  lay  aside  a  little  money,  although  he  had 
only  possessed  the  farm  (the  legacy  of  an  uncle)  for  three 
years.  Harry's  father  had  died  while  he  was  a  child,  and 
he  had  been  brought  up  on  a  farm  out  West,  but  on  the 
death  of  his  uncle,  he  came  to  take  possession  of  his  lit- 
tle property,  bringing  his  mother  with  him  to  manage 


STRAY  LEAVES  FKOM  MY  JOURNAL.  73 

the  dairy  and  assume  the  supervision  of  the  household 
affairs.  Mrs.  Thornby  was,  however,  growing  old,  and 
Harry  thought  it  would  be  doing  nothing  more  than  his 
duty,  seeing  he  was  now  in  a  position  of  independence, 
moderate  though  it  was,  to  take  to  himself  a  wife,  in  order 
that  his  mother  might  be  relieved  of  some  of  her  house- 
hold duties,  and -his  home  rendered  more  comfortable  and 
cheerful  to  himself. 

Now  Harry  was  a  sensible  lad,  and  he  rightly  thought, 
that  a  young  woman  who  had  been  accustomed  to  house- 
hold employments,  and  whose  appearance  betokened 
health  and  cheerfulness,  would  be  a  more  suitable  wife 
to  a  man  in  his  position  than  one  of  those  die-away,  lack- 
a-daisical  feminines,  who,  sooner  than  spoil  their  hands 
with  wholesome,  healthy  work,  choose  to  bury  themselves 
in  crowded  rooms  and  earn  a  wretched  half-starved  exis- 
tence by  their  needles ;  so  having  a  wide  field  to  choose 
from  in  his  daily  circuit  through  Jersey  City  and  New 
York,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  picking  and  choosing 
from  among  the  many  young  women  who  took  the  fami- 
ly allowance  of  milk  from  him  every  morning,  and  hav- 
ing found  one  to  his  fancy,  to  pop  the  question  boldly 
and  inquire  whether  he  would  suit  her. 

To  be  sure,  being  a  good  looking  young  man,  and  hav- 
ing tolerably  fair  prospects  for  one  in  his  position  of  life, 

he  might  have  looked  higher.  It  was  said  that  Miss , 

the  mistress  milliner  of  Jersey  City,  would  have  been 
very  willing  to  have  joined  her  shop  to  Harry's  farm  irx 
a  life  partnership — throwing  herself  into  the  bargain — 
but,  although  she  put  on  her  sweetest  smiles  whenever 
Harry  stopped  his  cart  near  her  door  and  commenced  to 
ring  his  bell,  and  wished  him  good  morning  in  the 
sweetest-toned  voice  in  the  world,  she  could  make  no  im- 
pression whatever  on  the  young  milkman's  heart — not 
that  he  did  not  perceive  well  enough  what  her  intentions 

were,  but  as  he  told  his  mother,  Miss was  too  much 

of  the  would-be  fine  lady  to  suit  him,  and  besides,  she 
seemed  as  if  she  wished  to  do  the  courting  herself,  and 
that  was  not  at  all  to  his  taste.  Then  there  was  Mrs, 

4  . 


74  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

,  the  confectioner,  who  was  evidently  enamoured  of 

the  young  milkman,  and  a  very  nice,  tidy  little  body  she 
was — and  youthful  withal.  Harry  was  heard  to  acknow- 
ledge this  himself ;  but  then  there  was  one  insuperable 

objection.     Mrs. was  a  widow,  and  although  Harry 

lived  previous  to  the  period  when  the  immortal  'Tony 
Weller  had  given  that  famous  piece  of  advice  to  his  son 
and  heir,  Samivel,  when,  shaking  his  head  solemnly,  he 
said,  "  Samivel,  Samivel,  my  boy,  never  marry  a  vidder," 
Harry,  without  having  had  'Tony's  experience,  had  per- 
haps profited  by  somebody  else's,  for  though  he  rather 

liked  Mrs. ,  he  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  "never 

to  marry  a  vidder."  Thus  it  was,  after  having  scruti- 
nized all  the  damsels  that  his  business  necessarily  threw 
in  his  way,  under  circumstances,  perhaps,  admirably  cal- 
culated to  show  forth  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  each  to 
make  a  good  wife  for  a  young  and  struggling  farmer,  he 
at  last  fixed  upon  Helen  ;  and,  as  it  happened,  Helen  had 
not  gone  to  the  cart  with  her  milk  pitcher  every  morning 
for  many  months,  without  admiring  the  young  man  in 
her  turn,  and  as  sundry  innocent  jests  and  compliments 
had  passed  between  them,  when  once  Harry  had  made 
up  his  mind,  he  was  not  long  before  he  offered  his  hand, 
nor  was  Helen  tardy  in  accepting  the  offer.  In  truth, 
she  had  won  the  prize  that  many  a  damsel  was  secretly 
sighing  for  ;  and  although  the  courtship,  if  secret,  had 
perhaps  been  long,  when  once  the  engagement  was  made, 
the  wedding  quickly  followed,  and  the  happy  Helen, 
somewhat  to  my  wife's  regret,  although  she  rejoiced  in 
her  good  fortune,  (for  we  thought  the  match  a  most  desir- 
able one  for  her)  left  our  service,  and  assuming  the  ma- 
tronly appellation  of  Mistress  Thornby,  became  joint  pro- 
prietess  and  chief  superintendent  of  the  dairy  of  Cow- 
slip farm,  New  Jersey.  *  *  * 

Some  years  passed  away,  and  although  we  hardly  saw 
Helen  more  than  once  in  six  months,  when  she  came  over 
to  New  York  in  her  husband's  cart,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  purchases  of  clothing  and  such  like  matters,  on 
which  occasions  she  always  called  in  to  see  my  wife,  we 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  76 

frequently  heard  of  her  from  her  husband,  who  still  con- 
tinued his  occupation,  and  when  her  first  child  was  chris- 
tened, Helen  begged  my  wife  to  stand  god-mother,  which 
she  willingly  did.  In  the  course  of  five  years  Helen  bore 
her  husband  four  children — two  girls  and  two  boys — a 
girl  being  the  eldest.  Mr.  Thornby's  business  was  satis- 
factory, though  he  of  course  did  not  manage  to  lay  by 
much  money ;  but  he  at  all  events  secured  a  good  living 
for  himself  and  his  increasing  family.  His  mother  had 
died  about  two  years  after  his  marriage. 

At  length  we  removed  from  our  residence,  and  took  a 
house  in  the  upper  portion  of  the  city,  and  as  the  resi- 
dents were  supplied  with  milk  from  other  parties,  for 
some  time  we  heard  nothing  more  from  Helen,  as,  pro- 
bably not  knowing  whither  we  had  removed,  she  ceased 
to  call  upon  us  when  she  visited  the  city. 

One  day,  about  six  years  after  Helen's  marriage,  I 
happened  to  be  called  to  make  an  unusually  early  visit 
to  a  patient  who  resided  in  our  old  neighborhood,  and 
on  leaving  the  house,  I  saw  a  milk  cart  standing  at  the 
door,  which  struck  me  as  being  that  of  Mr.  Thornby.  I 
looked  at  the  horse,  and  it  was  certainly  the  same  ani 
mal,  but  it  was  not  the  same  driver ;  some  stranger  had 
usurped  Mr.  Thornby's  place.  My  first  impression  was, 
that  with  the  increase  of  business  he  had  hired  additional 
"  help,"  and  that  the  driver  was  in  Harry's  employ.  So 
I  stepped  towards  the  cart,  and  inquired  after  the  welfare 
of  him  and  his  family.  Greatly  to  my  surprise,  the  an- 
swer was — 

"  Mr.  Thornby  has  been  dead,  sir,  these  six  months.  I 
bought  the  horse  and  cart  when  the  fixings  of  the  farm 
were  sold  at  auction,  but  my  farm  lies  in  another  direc- 
tion, and  I  know  little  about  his  widow  and  children." 

"Mr.  Thornby  dead!"  exclaimed  I.  "Why,  he  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  such  a  strong,  healthy  young  man — 
you  really  surprise  me.  Of  what  disease  did  he  die?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  "it's  rather  a  sorrowful 
affair,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  I  know  very  little  about  it; 
but  folks  say  that  about  twelve  months  ago,  Mr.  Thorn- 


76  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

by  became  security  fora  cousin  of  his,  who  shortly  after- 
wards ran  away  South,  leaving  Thornby  to  settle  matters 
with  his  creditors.  Well,  sir,  the  rascally  fellow's  debts 
swallowed  up  all  the  little  matter  of  money  that  Mr. 
Thornby  had  saved,  and  obliged  him  to  sell  a  good  por- 
tion of  his  property  besides ;  so  that  the  family  who  had 
lived  very  comfortable  became  very  poor.  To  make 
matters  worse,  Thornby,  who  had  always  been  a  tempe- 
rate man,  took  the  loss  so  much  to  heart,  that  he  turned 
to  drinking,  and  one  day,  about  six  months  since,  as  he 
was  driving  in  a  load  of  vegetables  to  market,  having 
taken  a  glass  too  much,  he  fell  from  the  cart,  which 
passed  over  him,  and  so  injured  him  that  he  died  a  few 
days  afterwards.  After  his  death,  it  was  found  that  the 
sale  of  the  whole  of  his  farm  effects  would  not  cover  his 
liabilities,  and  the  creditors  therefore  sold  all  off  by 
auction." 

"And  Helen — Mrs.  Thornby — the  widow  that  is?" 
said  I,  interrupting  the  man — "  what  became  of  the  wi- 
dow and  her  children  ?  Let  me  see,  there  were  four  of 
them,  if  I  recollect  rightly." 

"  Five,  sir,  five,"  replied  the  man.  "  There  was  a  baby 
born  about  a  month  before  Thornby's  death.  I  fancy 
the  widow  went  to  Philadelphia,  where  she  knew  some 
folks  who  were  pretty  well  off,  and  where  she  meant  to 
take  in  washing  and  plain  sewing.  That's  all  I  know 
about  them,"  and  as  he  said  this,  he  drove  on  his  cart  to 
the  house  of  his  next  customer. 

When  I  returned  home,  I  mentioned  the  subject  to 
my  wife,  who  sympathised  equally  with  myself  with  the 
misfortunes  of  poor  Helen.  If  we  had  known  at  the  time 
where  to  have  found  her,  we  would  have  endeavored  to 
to  have  been  of  some  benefit  to  her,  but  as  we  did  not, 
the  matter  was  soon  forgotten. 

I  now  come  to  the  page  in  my  diary  which  has  sug- 
gested this  reminiscence.  It  runs  thus : — 

"  April  7th,  18 — .  Greatly  to  my  surprise  and  sorrow, 
heard  that  Helen  Thornby,  a  former  much-valued  ser- 
vant, was  sick,  and  in  the  very  extremity  of  distress,  in 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  77 

Philadelphia.  At  my  wife's  urgent  request,  went  to  that 
city,  and  with  much  difficulty  found  her  out  in  miserable 
lodgings  in  Spring  Garden.  Saw  that  her  case  was 
hopeless,  but  relieved  her  to  the  utmost  extent  in  my 
power." 

******** 

"April  llth. — Helen  visibly  sinking — scarce  think 
she  can  live  throughout  the  day.  Administered  restora- 
tives. Much  affected  on  witnessing  her  poor,  half-starved 

children  weeping  around  their  mother's  dying  bed." 
******** 

"  April  12th. — Helen  Thornby  died  to-day,  about  noon, 
of  general  debility,  caused  by  protracted  suffering  and 
semi-starvation." 

The  above  is  all  the  record  that  appears  in  my  journal, 
but  it  tells  a  sad  story  to  every  reader,  and  suggests  sor- 
rowful reminiscences  to  me  who  knew  her  in  health  and 
in  happiness,  who  am  aware  of  the  causes  which  led  to 
her  distress,  and  who  witnessed  her  last  dying  moments, 
and  heard  the  bitter  wail  of  her  hapless  children,  when 
they  learnt  that  their  last  remaining  parent  was  no  more. 

The  way  in  which  I  became  acquainted  with  the  dis- 
tress to  which  the  once  happy  and  cheerful  Helen  Thorn- 
ton was  reduced,  was  as  follows : 

My  wife  was  reading  a  Philadelphia  newspaper,  which 
by  some  chance  (wrapped  around  a  parcel,  I  believe)  had 
found  its  way  into  the  parlor,  when  she  suddenly  uttered 
an  ejaculation  of  surprise,  and  handing  the  paper  to  me, 
begged  me  to  read  a  paragraph  which  run  as  follows : 

"  To  THE  BENEVOLENT. — One  of  the  most  extreme 
cases  of  distress  it  has  ever  been '  our  lot  to  record,  has 
lately  been  made  known  to  us,  and  having  full  confidence 
in  the  source  whence  the  information  was  derived,  we 
willingly  make  room  in  our  columns  for  an  appeal  to  the 
charitable  in  behalf  of  the  poor  suffering  family.  The 
mother,  a  widow  of  the  name  of  Thornby,  whose  hus- 
band is  represented  to  us  as  having  but  a  few  years  since 
been  a  substantial  farmer,  but  who  was  killed  some  three 


78  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

years  since  by  an  accident,  is  lying  at  the  point  of  death 

in  a  miserable  attic  in  S street,  Spring  Garden.    She 

is  destitute  of  almost  every  necessary  of  life,  and  her  ill- 
ness has,  it  is  said,  been  superinduced  in  a  great  measure, 
by  the  want  of  necessary  food  and  clothing  during  the 
late  inclement  winter.  She  has  five  children,  the  eldest 
of  which,  is  a  girl  nine  years  of  age,  and  the  youngest 
an  infant  of  three  years,  all  of  them,  according  to  our 
informant,  in  a  state  of  suffering  from  the  same  causes 
which  have  brought  their  mother  to  the  verge  of  death. 
The  philanthropic  public  of  this  city  will,  we  are  assured, 
do  a  real  charity,  if  they  search  out  and  relieve  this  dread- 
ful misery.  The  poor  widow  is  represented  to  have 
been  a  most  industrious  woman,  who  worked  night  and 
day  to  support  her  infant  family,  until  prevented  from 
following  her  occupation  of  washerwoman  'and  needle- 
woman, by  a  severe  attack  of  rheumatism.  Bis  dot  qui 
etio  dat,  says  the  Latin  proverb,  (He  gives  twice  who  gives 
quickly,)  and  delay,  we  are  assured,  may,  in  this  instance, 
be  fatal." 

Such  was  the  paragraph  I  read  at  the  request  of  my 
wife,  and  the  reader  may  conceive  my  feelings  when  I 
contrasted  in  my  mind  Helen,  our  healthy,  cheerful  ser- 
vant girl — Helen,  the  contented,  happy  wife,  with  Helen 
Thornby,  the  widow,  stretched  on  the  bed  of  death  amidst 
such  wretchedness  as  was  described  in  the  paragraph. 

I  laid  the  paper  aside  without  saying  a  word. 

"  We  must  relieve  her  immediately,"  said  my  wife. 

"  Of  course  we  must,"  said  I. 

"James,  you  must  start  off  to  Philadelphia  immediately, 
and  find  out  poor  Helen,"  continued  my  wife. 

"Impossible,  my  love,"  I  replied,  "there  is  General 

,  lying  seriously  ill.  Indeed  his  case  is  an  intricate 

and  dangerous  complication  of  disorders,  and  I  am  get- 
ting greatly  alarmed  about  him.  And  then  there  is  Mrs. 
,  and  Mrs. ,  and  Miss ,  and" — I  was  pro- 
ceeding to  con  over  my  list  of  patients,  when  my  wife 
again  said,  quietly — 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  79 

"  Nevertheless,  James,  you  must  let  your  assistant  do 
duty  for  you  for  a  few  days,  and  set  out  for  Philadelphia 
immediately."  • » 

Now  when  Susanna,  my  wife,  says  anything  in  that 
quiet  but  decided  way  of  hers,  I  know  it's  of  no  use  ar- 
guing the  case  any  longer,  so  I  felt  bound  to  follow  her 
wishes.  Not  that  I  would  wish  the  reader  to  think  she 
exercises  any  undue  influence  over  me.  Susy,  who  is 
now  sitting  opposite  me,  busied  with  her  interminable 
knitting,  occasionally  raising  her  mild  eyes  from  her  mo- 
notonous employment,  and  beaming  forth  tender  glances 
which  do  not  in  the  least  fail  in  their  effect,  from  the  fact 
of  their  beaming  through  the  glasses  of  her  gold  specta- 
cles— Susy,  I  say,  would  be  the  last  woman  in  the  world 
to  wish  people  to  think  she  wore — I  was  almost  writing 
something  not  exactly  comme  il  faut — to  wish,  I  should 
say,  people  to  think  that  she  ruled  her  husband.  I  beg 
to  assure  the  reader  that  my  wife  is  not  by  any  means 
" a  strong-minded  woman"  nor  a  stickler  for  woman's 
rights,  and  all  such  detestable  nonsense ;  but  somehow 
or  other  she  led  me  in  that  quiet  way  in  the  days  of  our 
courtship,  and  I  do  think  that — just  the  least  in  the  world 
— she  feels  her  power  in  that  respect,  and  as,  like  a  sensi- 
ble woman,  she  exerts  it  but  seldom — only  on  special  oc- 
casions, and  for  good  purposes,  she  has  managed  to  main- 
tain it  as  fully  as  she  did  before  marriage,  when  of  course 
I  was  her  humble  slave  and  so  forth.  I  fancy  now  by  a 
comical  twinkle  in  her  eye,  as  she  looks  up  from  her 
work,  that  she  knows  I  am  writing  about  her — there  cer- 
tainly is  a  strong  magnetic  affinity  between  us,  for  sure 
as  I  write  her  name,  I  see  her  look  up — and  if  she  does 
suspect  it,  she  will  be  sure  to  read  it  when  it  is  printed, 
and  then  I  shall  get  a  good  scolding.  I  know  that  per- 
fectly well,  but  I  don't  care  a  fig  about  it,  because  it  will 
lead  to  a  kiss  and  a  "make  up,"  just  as  scoldings  did 
thirty-five  or  forty  years  ago,  and  I  am  just  as  fond  of 
these  little  playful  "tiffs"  now  as  I  was  then. 

However,  revenons  a  nos  moutens.  I  foresaw  at  once 
that  I  must  go  to  Philadelphia,  and  to  Philadelphia  I  con- 


80  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

Bequently  went.  My  wife  would  have  accompanied  me, 
but  just  at  that  time  there  was  a  reason  for  her  staying 
at  home ;  respecting  which  there  is  no  occasion  for  me 
further  to  enlighten  the  reader. 

It  was  a  difficult  matter  for  me,  after  having  reached 
Philadelphia  and  placed  my  carpet-bag  in  charge  of  the 
clerk  at  the  hotel  where  I  put  up,  to  find  out  the  place 
mentioned  in  the  paragraph  which  had  been  the  cause 
of  my  undertaking  the  journey,  and  when  I  did  find  the 
street  and  enter  the  "house  indicated,  I  saw  that  the  dis- 
tress could  not  have  been  exaggerated,  for  assuredly  no 
human  being,  unless  reduced  to  the  very  extremity  of 
wretchedness,  would  have  sought  so  filthy  a  shelter  from 
the  elements.  Better  would  it  have  been,  I  almost 
thought,  to  brave  their  severity  even  in  mid-winter  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  tempest,  than  to  breathe  air  so  impure 
as  that  which  circulated  within  the  wretched  tenement — 
to  listen  to  the  imprecations  that  resounded  through  the 
dwelling  as,  making  my  way  up  the  ricketty  stair-case  I 
passed  room  after  room  inhabited  each  by  a  family  who 
appeared  to  be  wallowing  amidst  filth  and  intemperance, 
or  to  witness  the  hideous,  cadaverous  features  of  the 
drivelling,  drunken,  diseased  inmates  with  whom  I  came 
in  contact  on  the  landing-places.  Truly  they  seemed 
the  incarnation  of  church-yard  spectres,  and  imagination 
could  easily  conceive  that  they  even  then  were  experi- 
encing a  foretaste  of  the  horrors  of  the  hell  to  which 
they  were  hastening,  and  that  the  fiery  tortures  of  that 
remorse  to  which  they  appeared  doomed  for  all  eternity 
were  already  gnawing  at  their  vitals.  Faint  and. sick- 
ened by  what  I  had  witnessed  and  by  the  new  phases  of 
wretchedness  that  were  thrusting  themselves  upon  me 
step  by  step  as  I  advanced,  I  at  length  reached  the  garret 
occupied  by  Mrs.  Thornby.  I  knocked  at  the  door,  but 
I  need  not  have  done  so,  for  it  had  no  fastening,  and 
swinging  open,  it  revealed  to  my  distressed  view  the 
utter,  hopeless  wretchedness  within.  Stretched  upon  a 
ricketty  machine,  once  intended  for  a  bedstead,  two  of 
the  legs  of  which  had  given  place  to  brickbats,  and  in- 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  81 

stead  of  a  bed  the  unsteady  frame  now  covered  with  only 
a  thin  layer  of  very  dirty  straw,  lay  the  body  of  an  ap 
parently  dying  female.  The  cadaverous  features  were 
turned  towards  me,  but  the  eyes  were  closed,  and  in 
those  features  I  could  not  recognize  the  slightest  resem- 
blance to  the  once  ruddy,  healthy  maid-servant  Helen, 
and  while  pierced  to  the  heart  with  the  suffering  that  I 
witnessed,  I  almost  indulged  a  hope  that  I  was  mistaken 
with  regard  to  its  object.  It  took  not  long  to  make  the 
inventory  of  the  room ;  besides  the  apology  for  a  bed 
just  described,  the  only  other  article  of  furniture  con- 
sisted of  an  old  deal-box  without  a  cover,  but  having  a 
couple  of  planks,  each  about  three  feet  long,  laid  across 
it,  serving  either  for  table  or  chairs,  as  occasion  might 
require.  The  walls,  the  floor,  the  ceiling,  and  the  rem- 
nant of  a  window,  were  all  alike  begrimed  with  smoke 
and  dirt.  Around  the  bed  were  four  children,  all  of  them 
weeping  bitterly ;  but  the  youngest,  whose  hunger  was 
such  as  not  even  to  be  deadened  by  its  sorrows,  was 
munching,  between  its  sighs  and  sobs,  a  hunch  of  bread 
which  had  been  given  to  it  by  some  pitying  hand.  On 
the  be  ',  sleeping  by  the  side  of  the  dying  mother,  lay  a 
little  c  iild,  whose  attenuated,  fleshless  limbs,  were  so  tight- 
ly cot  jred  with  the  sallow  skin,  as  to  render  every  liga- 
ment visible ;  but  as  it  slept,  the  delicate,  though  pinched 
features,  and  the  long  golden  hair,  appeared  still  beauti- 
ful, and  forced  a  painful  contrast  in  the  mind  of  the  spec- 
tator as  he  pictured  the  loveliness  that  might  have  shone 
forth  in  that  young  face,  had  its  lot  been  a  happier  one. 
There  was  yet  one  more  person  in  this  abode  of  wretch- 
edness, whom  I  have  not  yet  mentioned,  but  whose  ap- 
pearance, so  neat,  so  orderly,  so  motherly,  so  angelically 
womanlike,  offered  a  lively  contrast  with  its  other  mise- 
rable inmates.  It  was  a  lady  apparently  of  thirty  or 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  attired  in  the  garb  of  the  Society 
of  Friends,  whose  attention  had  doubtless  been  directed 
to  the  appeal  in  the  newspaper,  and  who  had  long  been 
beforehand  with  me  in  the  work  of  charity.  Strong  and 
confident  in  the  holiness  of  her  cause ;  she,  a  woman, 


82  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  human  misery  save  that 
which  she  sought  to  relieve ;  certainly  not  like  me,  com- 
pelled by  the  duties  of  my  profession  to  witness  it  in  all 
its  hideous  phases,  had  ventured  unfalteringly,  and  as  it 
appeared  alone,  through  the  scenes  of  horror  that  I  have 
faintly  pictured,  and  now  stood  leaning  over  the  couch 
of  the  sufferer,  all  emotions  of  disgust  stifled — that  of 
pity  only  visible  upon  her  fair  features,  while  I  had  be- 
come so  sick  at  heart,  that  I  half  contemplated  leaving 
the  place,  and  sending  an  almoner  in  my  stead  to  dis- 
pense the  charity  I  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  bestow- 
ing ;  but  when  I  saw  this  lady  so  unwavering  in  the  work 
of  charity,  I  felt  how  selfish  were  the  feelings  of  my  own 
heart,  and  determined  to  drive  such  selfish  feelings  from 
me.  I  entered  the  room  softly  and  unperceived.  The 
lady  who  had  hold  of  the  sufferer's  hand  was  thus  ques- 
tioning her : — 

"  How  long  hast  thou  been  ill,  poor  woman  ?" 

The  poor  creature  she  addressed  raised  her  heavy  eyes, 
and  in  a  voice  so  low  as  to  be  almost  unintelligible,  an- 
swered— 

"  Long,  very  long.     How  long  I  know  not." 

Her  eyes  at  once  enabled  me  to  recognize  her  as  indeed 
the  Widow  Thornby;  but  she  had  not  observed  me,  and 
still  I  remained  a  listener. 

"  Hast  thou  no  assistance — nobody  to  nurse  thee  ?" 
continued  the  fair  Quakeress. 

"  Nobody  but  these,"  pointing  to  the  children. 

"  Has  any  doctor  been  here  ?"  asked  the  lady  of  the 
eldest  child. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  replied  the  little  girl. 

"  And  how  long,  then,  has  thy  mother  been  ill  ?" 

"  Since  she  took  the  rheumatis." 

"And  how  long  is  that?" 

"  Eight  or  nine  months  ago,  ma'am." 

"  But,  my  poor  children,  you  are  not  the  only  people 
that  live  with  her,  I  suppose." 

"  Nobody  else  lives  here,  leastways  not  in  this  room," 
replied  the  child.  "  I  'tends  mother." 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  83 

"  Thou  art  not  big  enough  to  take  care  of  her,  my 
poor  child,  even  if  thy  mother  were  provided  with  all 
the  necessaries  that  her  illness  requires." 

There  was  silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  the 
fair  questioner  continued — 

"  I  fear  thou  art  very  ill,  poor  woman,  and  I  know 
not  how  I  can  best  help  thee.  Money  I  can  give,  but 
there  is  no  one  here  to  make  use  of  it  for  thee." 

"  Money !"  almost  shrieked  the  poor  woman  from  her 
bed  of  straw,  "  Money  !  you  can  give  me  money  ?  Oh, 
give  it,  give  it,  give  it  to  her — give  it  to  the  child ;  she 
knows  what  it  is ;  she  knows  the  use  of  it ;  she  knows  I 
am  dying  for  the  want  of  it.  It  is  too  late  for  me,  but 
give  it,  give  it  to  my  children,  and  may  God " 

Here  the  poor  creature's  strength  wholly  failed ;  hei 
eyes  closed,  and  to  all  appearance  she  was  already  a 
corpse. 

"  Oh  !  this  is  very  dreadful,"  said  the  lady,  wringing 
her  hands  in  the  extremity  of  her  own  distress  at  the 
misery  she  witnessed,  and  for  a  moment  she  turned  her 
eyes  away  towards  the  door,  where  I  was  then  standing. 

She  started  with  surprise,  but  immediately  recovered 
herself,  and  addressing  me  familiarly,  as  though  the 
scene  in  which  we  had  met  removed  all  necessity  of  an 
introduction,  she  said — 

"  I  am  thankful  that  thou  hast  come  on  the  same 
errand  of  mercy  which  brought  me  hither.  Truly,  I 
was  wrong  to  come  alone.  I  should  have  brought 
Jedediah,  my  brother,  with  me;  but  I  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  misery  I  was  destined  to  behold."  Then 
taking  her  purse  from  her  pocket,  she  placed  half  a 
dollar  in  the  hands  of  the  eldest  child. 

The  little  girl  looked  at  the  coin,  and  in  a  half  whis- 
per, ejaculated,  "  oh  mother  !"  Creeping  to  the  bed  she 
put  it  into  the  palm  of  her  mother's  hand,  pressing  the 
fingers  down  upon  it,  and  in  an  accent  of  interrogation, 
uttered  the  word  "bread?"  and  then  flew,  rather  than 
run  from  the  room. 

The  lady  then  turnel  to  me  and  said,  "I  know  not 


84  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

who  thou  art ;  but  I  consider  thee  in  this  case  as  a 
brother  in  mercy.  We  must  seek  medical  assistance  for 
this  poor  sister." 

"  I  am  a  physician,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  knew  this  poor 
woman  in  happier  days.  Such  assistance  as  I  can  afford 
I  will  give  freely  and  gladly ;  but  I  need  scarcely  say 
she  is  beyond  the  reach  of  medicine — she  is  dying.  Still 
she  may  be  partially  restored  ;  and  these  poor  children — 
they  need  food  more  than  anything  else." 

I  approached  the  bedside  and  felt  the  pulse  of  the 
dying  female.  It  beat  faintly — irregularly ;  sometimes 
the  pulsation  could  not  be  perceived ;  then  came  a 
sudden  throb,  as  though  life  still  lingered,  loth  to  quit 
even  such  a  wretched  tenement  as  this  poor  wasted 
frame. 

Presently  the  little  girl  came  in  with  a  large  loaf  of 
bread  which  was  almost  torn  in  pieces  by  the  famishing 
children,  who  proceeded  hastily  to  devour  the  food  thus 
unexpectedly  provided  for  them. 

The  lady,  looked  on  apparently  horrified.  At  length 
she  inquired,  as  though  struck  with  some  shocking 
thought : 

"  Of  what  disease  dost  thou  think  the  poor  mother  is 
ailing — is  dying  ?" 

"  She  is  dying  of  general  debility,"  I  replied,  "  caused 
by  hunger  and  cold,  and  hastened  to  its  fatal  termination 
by  the  inroads  made  upon  her  constitution  by  rheumatism, 
not  properly  cared  for  in  time." 

"  And  truly  thou  believest  her  to  be  dying?" 

"  She  is  dying.  She  may  live  a  few  days,  if  great  care 
be  taken  of  her,  but  not  many.  She  will  scarcely  sur- 
vive this  week." 

"  This  is  dreadful,"  repeated  the  lady.  "  We  must 
immediately  seek  a  nurse  and  provide  such  sustenance 
as  she  in  her  feeble  condition  is  enabled  to  take.  I  will 
not  leave  her  until  I  see  this  done.  Doctor,  wilt  thou 
go  on  this  errand  of  charity,  and  I  will  await  thy  return 
by  the  side  of  our  suffering  sister." 

I  turned  away   without  speaking,    and  leaving  the 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL,  85 

room,  descended  the  stairs,  and  having  threaded  my  way 
through  the  noisome  alleys,  I  soon  procured  a  nurse, 
with  the  promise  of  high  wages,  and  purchased  such 
restoratives  as  I  thought  necessary,  and  then  returned  to 
the  garret  of  the  dying  woman.  I  found  the  lady  kneel- 
ing by  the  bed-side,  and  the  children,  who  had  finished 
their  meal,  weeping  bitterly.  The  youngesfr  child  had 
awakened,  and  was  clasping  its  mother  round  the  neck 
and  kissing  her  pale  face. 

In  a  few  moments  we  administered  some  warm  re- 
storatives, and  the  poor  woman  revived  considerably, 
and  after  a  short  time  we  left  her  in  a  calm  sleep,  to  the 
care  of  the  nurse. 

I  escorted  my  companion  to  the  street  and  to  her 
home,  which  was  on  Chestnut-street,  near  the  Schuylkill 
river.  It  was  a  mansion  of  plain  exterior,  but  evidently 
the  abode  of  wealthy  persons.  My  fair  companion  asked 
me  in,  but  I  begged  to  be  excused  for  the  time  being, 
and  promised  to  meet  her  at  the  residence  of  the  poor 
widow  on  the  following  day  in  company  with  her 
brother. 

On  the  way  to  the  lady's  house  we  conversed  on  the 
shocking  scene  we  had  witnessed,  and  I  explained  to  her 
how  I  had  known  the  poor  woman  in  better  days,  and 
how  I  had  come  to  a  knowledge  of  her  distress,  my  fair 
companion  also  telling  me  how  she  had  read  only  that 
very  morning,  the  paragraph  in  the  newspaper,  although 
it  had  been  published  two  days  before. 

"Is  it  not  terrible,"  said  she,  "that  such  misery  as 
this  should  be  experienced  in  our  happy  country,  where 
we  are  told  there  is  abundance  for  all."  ' 

"  It  is,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  could  not  have  conceived  it 
possible  had  I  not  been  an  eye  witness  of  it ;  but  I  have 
not  now  to  learn  that  men  are  selfish  creatures,  and  that 
although  few  will  object  to  relieve  misery  when  it 
appears  before  them  in  all  its  hideousness,  few  will  pur- 
posely seek  it  out.  The  poor  woman  was  unable  to 
make  her  case  known  until  some  one  put  that  notice  in 


86  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

the  newspaper,  and  her  children  are  too  young  and  too 
feeble  to  have  helped  her  in  any  way  whatever." 

"  But  is  it  not  strange,  my  friend,"  continued  the  lady, 
"that  the  person  who  put  that  paragraph  in  the  paper, 
should  not  have  afforded  her  relief,  or  that  the  proprietor 
of  the  newspaper  should  not  have  himself  sought  her 
out  ?" 

"  It  is  not,"  I  replied — "  the  person  who  caused  the 
paragraph  to  be  inserted,  perhaps  temporarily  relieved 
the  distressed  family,  and  having  done  that,  and  further- 
more made  her  sad  case  public,  he  thought  he  had  well 
done  his  part,  and  probably  likewise  the  newspaper  edi- 
tor thought  he  had  done  his  part  when  he  gratuitously 
inserted  the  paragraph  in  question.  Believe  me,  madam, 
I  have  seen  distress  in  the  course  of  my  professional  du- 
ties that  few  otherwise  engaged,  are  aware  of  the  exist- 
ence of,  and  I  am  confident  there  is  distress  far  deeper 
than  any  that  I  have  seen — that  is,  until  to-day." 

"  Not  many  cases  I  should  hope,  such  as  we  have  wit- 
nessed to-day,"  said  the  lady,  thoughtfully  and  earnestly, 

<is  we  came  in  sight  of  her  residence. 

****** 

The  next  day,  according  to  promise,  I  met  the  lady 
and  her  brother  at  the  wretched  abode  of  the  widow. — 
The  poor  woman  was  able  to  sit  up  and  converse  freely, 
and  she  recognized  me  and  related  to  me  in  broken  ac- 
cents, the  history  of  her  life  since  the  unhappy  hour  when 
her  husband  had  became  security  for  his  faithless  cousin. 
Until  that  hour,  her  life,  she  said,  had  been  one  of  unin- 
terrupted happiness.  It  is  not  necessary,  however,  for 
me  to  repeat  this  history  to  the  reader,  as  there  was 
nothing  said  more  than  he  has  learnt  while  perusing  the 
story.  As  my  journal  briefly  states,  I  paid  three  visits 
to  the  poor  woman,  and  during  my  third  visit,  she 
breathed  her  last — her  head  resting  on  the  shoulder  of 
«he  kind  Quakeress,  who,  with  myself,  had  promised  the 
flying  mother  to  provide  for  her  children.  I  took  care 
that  poor  Helen  was  decently  interred,  and  also  that  the 
two  boys  were  put  to  school.  The  eldest  girl  was  taken 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  87 

home  by  me  to  New  York,  and  the  two  young  girls — 
the  youngest  children — were  adopted  by  the  kind  Quaker 
family. 

They  all  turned  out  well.  The  boys  are  now  mer 
chants  in  Alabama,  and  all  the  girls  are  married — the 
elder  one  to  a  wealthy  farmer  of  the  State  of  New  Jer- 
sey— the  two  younger  ones  to  two  brothers  in  New  Or- 
leans. 

Having  bid  a  kind  farewell  to  my  Quaker  friends, 
whose  acquaintance  I  had  formed  under  such  melancholy 
circumstances,  I  returned  to  New  York  and  made  my 
poor  wife  weep  over  the  sad  fate  of  her  former  favorite 
servant.  Helen,  the  child  I  brought  home,  was  put  to 
school,  and  after  having  completed  her  education,  she 
obtained  a  situation  as  governess.  It  was  while  in  this 
occupation  that  she  fell  in  with  her  future  husband. 

The  strangest  part  of  this  story  remains  to  be  told, 
although  it  can  be  told  in  a  few  words. 

Twelve  years  after  the  occurrence  of  the  incidents  re- 
lated above,  I  was  called  to  attend  a  gentleman  who  had 
-long  been  suffering  from  ill  health,  and  who  had  taken 
laudanum,  it  was  suspected,  with  the  purpose  of  com- 
mitting suicide,  although  he  had  failed  in  immediately 
effecting  his  object.  He  lived  for  some  weeks  after- 
wards ;  but  his  constitution  had  been  previously  so  much 
impaired,  that  the  poison  he  had  taken,  at  length  effected 
its  purpose,  though  much  more  slowly  than  he  probably 
had  anticipated.  I  will  not,  for  obvious  reasons,  men- 
tion his  name — but  he  continued  to  insist  that  he  had 
long  been  in  the  habit  of  using  laudanum,  and  that  he 
had  incautiously  taken  an  overdose.  He  was  a  wealthy 
man,  and  everybody  was  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  it 
was  that  was  preying  upon  his  mind — for  he  had  evi- 
dently for  some  time  past,  as  it  appeared,  been  suffering 
from  an  aberration  of  intellect,  produced  by  some  dread- 
tul  mental  burthen. 

I  was  present  when  he  died,  and  a  few  moments  be- 
fore he  breathed  his  last,  he  placed  a  sealed  packet  in 
my  hand,  which  he  had  concealed  beneath  his  pillow. — 


88  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

"  Open  that,"  he  said,  "  when  I  am  no  more.  Open  it  in 
secret;"  and  as  he  uttered  the  last  word,  he  fell  back  in 
the  bed,  a  corpse. 

I  took  the  packet  home  and  opened  it  in  the  presence 
only  of  my  wife. 

It  contained  a  letter  and  a  very  large  sum  of  money  in 
bank  bills,  amounting  to  several  thousands  of  dollars. — 
The  letter  was  inscribed :  •'  To  the  children  of  Henry 

Thornby,  to  be  opened  by  Doctor ,  and  the  inclosed 

bills  to  be  by  him  appropriated  to  their  benefit."  Inside 
were  the  following  words : 

"  Restitution  forced  from  C.  D.  to  the  children  of  Henry 
and  Helen  Thornby,  by  the  ever-torturing  demon  of  RE- 
MORSE." 

The  money  was  appropriated  by  me  according  to  re- 
quest, and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  donor  was  the  cousit, 
who  had  wronged  Harry,  and  caused  all  the  subsequent 
misery  of  himself  and  his  family  ;  but  the  children  were 
not  aware  of  this  cousin's  name,  and  although  I  endea- 
vored to  do  so,  I  could  not  succeed  in  tracing  any  rela- 
tionship between  Mr.  D and  Henry  Thornby. 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  89 


CHAPTEE   VII. 

THE    POOR    ARTIST. 

"Poor  creatures!  what  will  become  of  them  through 
the  long  months  of  winter  ?" 

Such  was  the  exclamation  that  greeted  my  ears  as  I 
entered  the  parlor  one  evening  in  December,  1834,  having 
taken  off  rny  India  rubbers  in  the  passage,  and  called  the 
servant  to  shake  the  snow  from  my  overcoat — for  it  was 
snowing  and  blowing  furiously  out  of  doors.  One  of 
those  regular  old  New  York  snow  storms,  which,  in  rny 
time,  used  to  visit  us  before  Christmas,  but  which  now 
come  upon  us  scarce  as  "  angels'  visits." 

"  May  I  ask  who  is  the  especial  object  of  your  com- 
miseration ?"  I  said,  advancing  towards  a  couple  of 
young  ladies  (my  nieces)  who  were  seated  by  the  fire, 
and  who  had  been  so  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation, 
that  they  had  not  heard  my  steps  in  the  passage. 

"  Oh,  uncle,  we  are  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  elde* 
of  the  girls,  both  of  whom  were  daughters  of  my  wife's 
elder  sister.  "  Patty  and  I  came  up  from  Boston  this 
morning  to  spend  Christmas,  according  to  our  invitation, 
and  brother  Uriah  will  come  up  on  Saturday ;"  and  I  re- 
ceived a  hearty  kiss  from  each  of  the  two  bouncing  rosy- 
cheeked  New  England  girls.  "  Why,"  continued  Mary, 
the  first  speaker,  "  you  had  not  left  the  house  to  go  into 
town  half  an  hour,  before  our  sleigh  drove  up  to  the 
door.  Had  he,  aunt  Susanna  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear,  your  uncle  could  scarcely  have  reached 
the  house  of  his  first  patient,  before  I  heard  the  sleigh 
stop  at  the  door,  and  quickly  I  guessed  who  it  was,"  re- 
plied my  wife. 

For  some  minutes  the  conversation  was  engrossed  with 
inquiries  after  all  the  folks  at  home,  and  a  variety  of 


90  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

family  matters  of  no  interest  to  any  but  those  acquainted 
with  the  family  affairs. 

At  length,  conversation  having  become  general,  I  sud- 
denly bethought  me  of  the  exclamation  I  had  heard  on 
entering  the  parlor,  and  I  repeated  my  former  and  still 
unanswered  question. 

"  Who  was  the  object  of  your  special  commisseration 
when  I  entered  the  parlor  this  evening?  If  I  mistake 
not,  I  heard  some  remark  made  about  the  difficulties  some 
poor  creature  would  find  in  getting  through  the  winter." 

"  Oh  !"  said  my  wife,  "  we  were  speaking  of  a  poor 
family  whom  the  girls  and  I  called  upon  to-day,  for  Patty 
insisted  on  dragging  me  out  for  that  purpose,  as  soon  && 
we  had  taken  lunch.  They  were  passengers  in  the  stage 
from  Boston  with  them,  at  least  the  mother  and  child 
were ;  the  father  is  sick  here  in  New  York,  and  two  other 
children  are  with  them.  The  delicate  health  and  lady- 
like appearance  of  the  mother,  and  the  helplessness  of 
the  baby,  and  the  mother's  evident  poverty,  attracted  the 
pity  of  the  girls,  and  they  were  desirous  to  afford  them 
all  the  relief  they  could." 

"  Well,  and  did  you  find  them  out?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  we  found  them  out  easily  enough  ;  with  much 
persuasion  Mary  got  the  poor  woman  to  write  down  her 
name  and  address  upon  a  card ;  here  it  is,  '  Katrina  Jan- 
sen,  16  Waters- treet,'  and  so  this  morning  I  ordered  out 
the  carriage  and  took  a  drive  round  the  battery,  calling 
in  at  the  poor  people's  residence  on  our  return." 

"  Katrina  Jansen,"  said  I,  taking  hold  of  the  card, 
which  was  inscribed  in  pencil,  in  a  delicate  feminine  hand. 
"  Are  they  foreigners  ?  Jansen  is  a  Danish  name." 

"  They  are  Banes,"  replied  my  wife  ;  "  but  the  woman 
speaks  perfectly  good  and  pure  English,  and  but  a  very 
slight  accent  betrays  her  husband's  foreign  birth." 

"Of  what  trade  or  profession  is  the  husband?" 

"  He  is  an  artist — so  his  wife  told  me,  for  he  scarcely 
spoke  a  word,  and  did  not  seem  pleased  with  my  visit — 
perhaps  he  did  not  like  to  have  his  poverty  exposed,  for 
they  are  evidently  poor — poor  as  well  they  can  be,  and 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  91 

besides,  he  is  too  sick  to  speak  a  great  deal.  His  wife 
says  he  has  no  medical  attendant  and  will  not  send  for 
a  doctor,  because  he  has  not  the  means  of  paying  for  one  ; 
but  he  pretends  to  have  no  faith  in  doctors,  and  takes 
such  medicine  as  he  thinks  proper  to  send  for,  himself. 
I  promised  her  that  my  husband  should  call  and  see  him, 
as  a  friend,  otherwise  he  is  morose,  if  he  thinks  any  one 
calls  out  of  curiosity.  You  might  call  upon  him  as  if 
you  wanted  a  picture  painted,  or  something  of  that  kind, 
you  know,  and  by  degrees  might  let  him  know  you  are 
a  physician,  and  so  perhaps  we  could  manage  to  be  of 
some  little  help  to  them  through  the  winter." 

I  could  not  help  smiling,  thus  to  have  all  the  plans  ar- 
ranged for  my  winter's  visits  to  a  gratuitous  patient,  by 
my  wife,  but  I  said,  somewhat  seriously — 

"  You  know,  my  dear,  that  my  time  is  now  so  fully 
engaged  that  I  have  scarcely  a  moment  to  spare  for  recre- 
ation at  home  with  my  family.  I  have  already  some 
dozen  gratuitous  patients  of  your  recommendation  on  my 
list,  and  if  you  swell  the  list  much  more,  I  don't  know 
how  I  shall  get  on  with  my  work.  However,"  I  added, 
seeing  her  disappointed  look,  "  your  patients  have  all 
turned  out  to  be  worthy  ones,  and  so  I  shall  add  this  last 
one  to  my  list,  and  see  if  I  can  find  time  for  a  call  to- 
morrow." 

''  But  you  must  not  go  as  a  physician,  James,  other- 
wise you  will  spoil  all." 

"  Oh,  I'll  manage  that,"  I  added,  thinking  to  myself  as 
I  did  so,  "  beggars  should  not  be  choosers." 

The  next  day,  after  having  concluded  my  calls  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city,  just  as  I  was  about  to  return  home, 
I  bethought  me  of  the  last  evening's  conversation,  and  I 
drove  up  to  the  house  in  Water-street.  "  Does  Mr.  Jan- 
sen  live  here?"  I  asked  of  a  woman  who  was  mopping 
down  the  steps  of  the  stoop. 

"  There's  sich  a  many  people  lives  here,"  she  replied, 

'  that  it's  meself  doesn't  know  whether  sich  a  man  as  Mr. 

Jansen  lives  in  the  house  or  not,  but  if  you'll  fasten  your 


92  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

horse's  bridle  to  the  lamp  post,  and  walk  up  stairs,  per- 
haps  some  of  the  lodgers  can  tell  you." 

Somewhat  annoyed,  and  yet  anxious  not  to  disappoint 
my  wife  and  nieces,  I  followed  the  bidding  of  the  woman, 
and  mounted  the  rickety  old  staircase,  as  she  had  told 
me,  inquiring  here  and  there,  as  I  met  with  a  stray  per- 
son ascending  or  descending,  for  the  name ;  at  last  a  little 
boy  told  me  that  was  his  father's  name,  and  led  me  into 
the  room. 

As  I  entered,  I  could  not  help  being  pleased,  as  my 
wife  and  nieces  had  been,  with  the  lady-like  appearance 
and  manners  of  Mrs.  Jansen,  who  rose  as  I  entered,  and 
evidently  guessed  my  errand.  She  advanced  toward  me 
and  whispered,  "  Dr. ,  is  it  not,  to  whom  I  am  in- 
debted for  the  honor  of  this  visit  ?" 

"I  am- Dr. ,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  called  at  the  re- 
quest of  my  wife  and  nieces,  who,  I  understand,  were 
here  yesterday."  "  You  are  welcome,  sir,"  she  replied, 
and  my  ill  humor  at  being  kept  so  late  in  town  through 
this  whim  of  the  women  folks  at  home,  and  at  having 
such  a  tramp  up  stairs,  vanished  at  once.  I  never  saw  a 
more  perfect  example  of  good  breeding  than  was  shown 
by  Mrs.  Jansen,  who,  although  her  attire  was  of  the 
plainest  kind,  and  though  her  apartment  showed  unmis- 
takably, signs  of  the  utmost  poverty,  made  no  attempts 
at  excuse.  She  was  aware  that  I  knew  that  she  was  poor, 
and  had  the  care  of  a  small  family  and  a  sick  husband  de- 
volving upon  her,  and  she  judged  rightly,  according  to 
the  principles  of  intuitive  gentility,  that  that  was  suffi- 
cient apology  for  all  else  but  dirt  and  slovenliness — for 
that  she  knew  there  could  be  no  apology,  and  there 
needed  none. 

I  entered  into  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  her, 
and  found  her  to  'be  a  lady  of  great  intelligence,  and  one 
who  in  her  earlier  days  had  known  comfort  and  pros- 
perity. She  had  married  her  husband  while  he  was  still 
a  student,  with  the  consent  of  her  parents,  although  he 
was  poor,  and  dependent,  even  for  his  education,  upon  a 
royal  grant,  which  provided  for  the  education,  in  Italy 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  93 

of  some  dozen  or  so  young  men  who  had  shown  sufficient 
proof  of  artistic  talent  at  college  in  Copenhagen,  to  enti- 
tle them  to  such  a  privilege.  Hans  Jansen  was  one  of 
the  most  promising  among  the  young  Danish  artists,  and 
as  he  and  his  wife  had  been  children  at  school  together, 
she  gradually  wound  her  affections  around  him  as  he 
grew  into  manhood,  and  as  she  heard  the  praises  of  his 
talents  sounded  from  every  tongue,  until  she  was  deeply 
in  love  with  him  without  knowing  the  particular  moment 
at  which  the  feeling  of  sisterly  regard,  with  which  she 
had  always  looked  upon  him,  had  ripened  into  love. 

That  however,  did  not  make  much  matter.  Katrina 
Fernsen  and  Hans  Jansen  loved  one  another,  for  what 

reasons  they  knew  best  themselves,  and  there  was  an  end 

~ .,  J  •» 

of  it. 

Hans  was  about  to  proceed  on  his  last  journey  to  Rome, 
and  like  most  impatient  lovers,  he  was  anxious  that  he 
and  his  sweetheart  should  be  married  before  he  started ; 
retaining  a  recollection  of  the  old  adage,  "  There's  many 
a  slip  between  the  cup  and  the  lip," — so  he  put  the  mo- 
mentous question  to  Katrina,  and  Katrina  blushed  and 
referred  her  lover  to  mama,  and  mama,  who  was  as  soft- 
hearted, kind  old  frau  as  ever  lived,  said  she  would 
speak  to  the  burgomaster,  and  when  Burgomaster  Fern- 
sen  heard  of  it,  he  said, 

"  Well !  if  the  two  young  folks  have  determined  to  be 
so  silly,  I  don't  see  that  we  old  folks  have  any  right  to 
say  them  nay.  We  have  no  child  but  Katrina,  and  she 
needn't  remove  from  us,  and  Hans  is  poor  enough  I 
know — for  many  a  score  of  rix  dollars  have  I  given  the 
good  youth  to  help  him  along  in  his  studies ;  for  you  re- 
collect, meinfrau,  I  am  his  god-father.  They  can  there- 
fore both  live  with  us — for  the  house  is  big  enough,  and 
Hans  is  a  good  and  worthy  youth,  and  years  will  bring 
him  fame,  and  increase  the  fortune  he  now  gets  in  and 
with  his  wife." 

Thus  the  love  of  Hans  Jansen  and  Katrina  Fernsen 
was  by  no  means  characterized  by  the  customary  ups  and 
downs,  and  good  hopes  and  evil  forebodings,  which  the 


94  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

old  proverb  says  forms  the  history  of  "  true  love."  For 
their  love  was  true,  and  it  had  run  iu  a  smooth  stream 
from  the  day  when,  hand  in  hand  together,  they  had  left 
school  for  the  houses  of  their  parents — 

"Twa  winsome,  toddlin'  weo  things — 
Twa  bairns  wi'  but  ao  heart." 

And  Hans  and  Katrina  were  married,  and  for  some 
months  after  their  marriage,  all  went  on  smoothly.  Hans 
went  to  Rome  with  his  young  bride  and  completed  his 
studies,  and  returned  and  passed  before  the  college  at 
Copenhagen  with  high  honors,  and  work  began  to  flow 
in  upon  him,  and  the  future  seemed  to  beckon  him  smil- 
ingly onward,  and  to  afford  glimpses  of  the  shadow  of 
the  temple  of  fame  that  he  was  striving  to  reach,  as  if  to 
encourage  him  to  proceed  in  his  arduous  endeavors — for 
Hans  studied  hard.  He  painted  portraits  and  landscapes 
and  many  small  matters  that  came  to  hand,  to  add  to  his 
income  ;  but  he  cared  little  for  them,  and  did  not  rest  his 
hopes  of  future  fame  on  them.  No — he  had  a  studio  in 
the  house  into  which  no  one  had  admittance — not  even 
Katrina,  and  here  he  spent  hour  after  hour,  and  often- 
times nearly  the  livelong  night,  locked  in  by  himself, 
diligently  studying  or  painting  or  modelling  something. 
He  never  told  any  one  what  it  was  ;  but  that  it  was  some- 
thing that  absorbed  his  entire  attention,  his  appearance 
would  testify,  when  after  hours  of  intense  labor  he  would 
make  his  appearance  in  his  wife's  bedroom,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  a  few  hours'  repose  before  he-again  com- 
menced what  he  considered  the  monotonous  duties  of 
life.  However,  all  was  going  on  well,  when  the  com- 
mercial difficulties  which  for  some  years  after  the  close 
of  the  great  Peninsular  war  bore  hard  upon  every  coun- 
try of  Europe,  began  to  approach  their  culminating 
point,  and  many  large  cities  were  almost  laid  prostrate, 
commercially  speaking,  with  the  force  of  the  stroke.  The 
capital  of  Denmark  suffered  with  others,  and  among  those 
who  suffered  in  Copenhagen,  there  was  no  merchant  who 
suffered  more  severely,  I  may  say  more  ruinously,  than 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  95 

did  Herr  Fernsen.  He  was,  in  fact,  reduced  from  compe- 
tency to  penury — utterly  beggared.  He  had  been  uni- 
versally respected,  and  his  creditors  made  up  a  small  an 
nuity  out  of  the  stock  they  took  from  him — enough  to 
keep  him  and  his  aged  wife  from  actual  want.  But  they 
did  not  need  it  long — they  were  both  full  of  years  when 
this  sad  and  unexpected  change  in  their  fortunes  had 
taken  place,  and  a  few  months  afterwards  saw  them  laid 
side  by  side  in  the  same  grave. 

Hans  and  Katrina  were  adrift  in  the  world,  and  nearly 
penniless.  The  depression  in  trade  was  such,  that  people 
no  longer  wanted  portraits  or  landscapes,  and  as  to  Hans' 
great  picture,  or  whatever  it  might  be,  that  was  not 
finished — nor  was  it  known  probably  to  himself,  when  it 
would  be;  and  besides,  the  painter  would  have  starved 
sooner  than  have  sold  the  work  of  his  genius  for  mere 
bread. 

So,  amid  poverty  every  day  growing  deeper  and 
deeper — for  although  Hans  still  studied  hard  at  his  pic- 
ture, (indeed,  now  it  was  his  only  solace,) — that  brought 
no  bread,  and  a  child  was  born  to  increase  the  wants  of 
his  family  ;  and  still  no  little  jobs  came  to  help  to  buy 
bread,  or  only  enough  to  keep  them  from  the  very  verge 
of  starvation.  At  length  one  evening  Jansen  turned  to 
his  wife  and  said:  "It  is  useless  our  remaining  any 
longer  in  our  Faderland.  There  is  a  country  across  the 
Atlantic  whither  thousands  of  our  German  friends  are 
emigrating,  and  they  write  good  news  from  thence.  It 
is  America,  my  Katrina ;  and  you  and  I  and  our  little 
Wilhelm  will  go  thither,  and  perhaps  there  we  may  meet 
with  happier  fortune,  and  I  may  be  able  to  finish  my 
great  picture ;  and  then  if  we  make  plenty  of  money  and 
I  acquire  the  fame  I  live  for,  we  will  return  together  to 
our  beloved  Faderland,  you,  little  Wilhelm  and  I,  and 
spend  our  last  hours  amidst  its  green  fields  and  valleys, 
and  our  bones  shall  be  at  last  laid  to  rest  beside  the 
bones  of  our  kindred,  beneath  the  soil  of  our  native  Den- 
mark." And  Katrina  consented,  and  they  had  come  out 
to  America — but  aias !  New  York  had  not  been  the  land 


96  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

of  promise  they  had  fondly  hoped.  The  poor  artist  had 
found,  that  though  the  skillful  mechanic,  or  the  hardy, 
industrious  laborer  could  find  abundance  of  employment, 
the  artist,  at  that  time  especially,  might  starve — for  al' 
that  was  wanted  in  his  line,  and  then  it  was  compara 
tively  little,  was  imported  from  Europe.  And  so,  wearily 
passed  years  away  in  America,  during  which  period  two 
more  children  were  born — a  girl,  Katrina,  and  a  boy, 
only  now  a  year  old,  little"  Fritz ;  and  at  last  the  poor  ar- 
tist, who  worked  night  and  day  at  his  great  (unknown) 
picture,  pined  and  pined  away  in  untold,  speechless 
misery,  until  at  length  he  fell  sick,  and  still  he  was 
wheeled  on  a  sofa  into  his  room,  every  day  to  touch  and 
retouch  his  picture,  until  at  last  he  could  bear  this  no 
longer,  and  was  compelled  to  remain  in  bed. 

At  length  his  wife,  hearing  that  some  old  friends  of 
the  family  in  Copenhagen,  were  doing  business  in  Boston 
dt- termined  to  pay  them  a  visit,  in  order  to  state  her  hus- 
band's case,  and  in  the  hope  to  devise  some  means  for 
ms  relief;  and  for  this  purpose  she  had  gone  to  Boston 
and  was  returning,  unsuccessful — for  the  party  had 
sailed  for  Europe  a  week  before  her  arrival  at  Boston, 
when  she  fell  in  with  my  nieces  in  the  stage.  All  this 
long  story  I  learnt  during  several  successive  visits  to  my 
poor  artist  patient.  He  was  soundly  sleeping  on  the 
afternoon  on  which  I  first  called,  and  I  would  not  allow 
his  wife,  nor  indeed  did  she  wish  to  awaken  him.  I  saw, 
however,  at  once,  from  the  hectic  flush  which  sat  on 
either  cheek,  and  from  the  quick  convulsive  gasping  of 
the  breath,  and  the  hollow  sound  as  I  bent  my  ear  low 
over  the  breast  of  the  sleeping  man,  that  a  disease  had 
seized  hold  upon  him  whose  deadly  grip  it  were  in  vain 
for  human  skill  to  try  to  loosen,  and  as  I  glanced  at  the 
pale  cheek  of  his  wife  as  she  stood  anxiously  watching 
me,  I  saw  that  she  instinctively  knew  what  conclusion  1 
had  arrived  at — for  she  turned  her  head  on  one  side  and 
hastily  brushed  a  tear  away  from  her  eyes,  while  her  bo- 
som heaved  for  a  moment  convulsively,  and  her  features 
assumed  an  expression  of  woe  pitiful  to  look  upon  ;  but 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  97 

it  was  over  in  a  moment,  and,  as  she  thought,  unper- 
ceived.  She  quietly  wished  me  good  night,  and  put 
back  a  small  piece  of  money  I  put  into  her  hand,  saying, 
"A  thousand  thanks,  doctor;  but  I  cannot  take  the  mo- 
ney— he  would  not  allow  me — my  own  self-respect  would 
forbid  me — " 

"But  your  husband  needs  nourishing  food,"  said  I, 
"  and  wine  such  as,  pardon  me,  I  fear  you  have  not  the 
present  means  of  providing  for  him." 

As  I  said  this,  she  pointed  to  a  basket,  the  lid  of  which 
she  raised,  disclosing  an  array  of  corked  bottles,  &c.,  and 
put  the  following  note  into  my  hands,  which  I  perceived 
was  in  the  hand  writing  of  my  wife.  It  ran — 

"  DEAR  MADAM  : — You  can  do  the  little  job  of  worsted 
work  we  spoke  about,  for  my  nieces,  at  your  leisure.  It 
is  enclosed  in  the  parcel  which  will  arrive  with  this  note. 
I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  sending  half  a  dozen  bottles 

of  port  as  a  present  from  Dr. ,  and  hope  the  contents 

may  prove  beneficial  to  the  patient.  You  must  not  re- 
fuse payment  for  the  worsted  work  beforehand.  I  have 
sent  it  in  the  bottom  of  the  basket.  SUSANNA " 

"Ah!"  thought  I,  "how  much  better  these  women 
know  how  to  manage  matters  of  this  kind,  than  we  blun- 
dering men  folks  do ;  but,  Sasy,  you've  been  poaching  in 
my  wine  cellar  again,  eh  !  but  you're  caught  in  the  trap." 

I  returned  the  note  to  Mrs.  Jansen,  and  promising  to 
call  and  see  the  sick  artist  to-morrow,  I  returned  home. 

I  called  the  next  day  and  found  the  artist  sitting  up. 
He  had  been  prepared  for  my  visit  by  his  wife,  and  I 
found  him  less  reserved  than  I  had  expected.  He  had 
evidently  been,  when  in  good  health,  a  handsome  man, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  the  expression  of  talent  and  the  im- 
press of  genius  constitute  beauty  in  features  that  are  not 
classically  regular — and  I  think  they  do.  I  hold  it  im- 
possible for  a  man  or  woman  whose  features  are  purely, 
classically  regular,  to  be  really  beautiful,  although  they 
may  be  eminently  handsome;  for  intense  regularity  of 

5 


98  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

feature  is  always  more  or  less  attended  with  intense  fri- 
gidity. 

"  It  seems  that  soul  is  wanting  there." 

He  was  a  man,  I  should  judge,  of  about  forty  years  of 
age,  but  the  delicacy  of  complexion  peculiar  to  those 
laboring  under  the  disease  which  the  poor  artist  was  suf- 
fering from,  might  have  made  him  look  younger  than  he 
was ;  but  he  could  not  have  been  more  than  three  or  four 
and  forty. 

We  discoursed  freely  of  his  profession,  and  I  found 
him  exceedingly  well  informed  upon  all  subjects  connect- 
ed, not  only  with  his  own,  but  other  branches  of  the 
arts  and  sciences.  I  spoke  encouragingly  to  him,  and  got 
him  to  allow  me  to  visit,  him  as  the  family  physician ; 
for  which  he  was  to  pay  me  by  painting  full  length  por- 
traits of  my  wife,  myself,  and  our  children,  when  he  re- 
covered. When  he  recovered  !  What  mockery  to  make 
such  a  bargain,  when  I,  at  least,  knew  full  well  that  he 
would  never  recover  ;  but,  poor  fellow  !  it  was  the  only 
way  I  could  satisfy  him,  for  he  would  lie  under  nothing 
that  he  thought  was  an  obligation.  Of  the  nervous,  irri- 
table, impulsive  temperament  that  almost  universally  ac- 
companies true  genius,  he  was  the  most  difficult  patient 
I  ever  came  across.  He  would  only  take  what  medicine 
he  chose,  and  at  such  times  as  he  liked  ;  and  as  soon  as 
I  got  him  a  little  restored,  the  next  day  I  was  sure  to  be 
baftled,  by  finding  that  he  had  been  up  half  the  night, 
occupied  upon  his  great  painting  ;  the  consequence  was, 
that  he  was  wrought  to  such  a  pitch  of  excitement,  that 
he  was  worse  than  ever,  and  he  would  lie  for  days  pros- 
trate, raving  in  fits  of  light-headed  ness  about  some  fear- 
ful object,  which  I  had  no  doubt  was  created  in  his  mind 
by  his  picture ;  although,  as  yet,  I  had  never  been  able 
to  learn  what  was  the  subject  of  this  "great  picture," 
which  was,  in  his  imagination,  to  place  him  on  a  pinnacle 
of  fame  with  Michael  Angelo,  Titian,  Eaphael,  and  others 
of  the  great  masters.  Tn  spite  of  all  my  endeavors,  he 
gradually  became  weaker,  and  the  days  that  he  was  able 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  99 

to  sit  up  and  view  his  darling  picture,  and  please  himself 
with  still  adding  something  to  it,  or  retouching  it  here 
and  there,  or  filling  up  the  background,  were  fewer  and 
fewer,  and  still  he  raved  in  his  fever  of  the  horrors  that 
met  his  affrighted,  sleepless  vision,  till  his  wife's  pale 
cheek  turned  paler  with  dread,  and  my  hair  would  stand 
on  end  with  terror.     His  wife  would  approach  his  bed- 
side, and  taking  him  by  the  hand  would  say,  "  Hans,  do 
you  not  know  me,  Katrina  ?    It  is  your  wife  who  speaks, " 
and  he,  as  if  endowed  with  supernatural  strength ;  he, 
whom  a  boy  could  have  lifted  from  the  bed,  would  tear 
himself  from  my  hold  and  his  wife's,  as  if  we  held  him 
by  a  tether  of  straw,  and  rising  up,  his  face,  neck  and 
breast  perspiring  profusely,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from 
their  sockets,  and  his  features  assuming  the  appearance 
of  the  very  agony  of  terror,  would  shriek  out  "hence! 
away  !  begone !     It  is  not  I — I  did  but  paint  it.     Devil ! 
— foul  spirit ! — it  is  not  I.     Ha !  it  comes.     Oh  God ! 
save  me.     Oh  horror!    horror!    horror! "and  uttering 
those  words  in  tones  such  as  I  have  never  heard  mortal 
sound  them  before  or  since,  he  would  fall  senseless  back 
upon  his  pillow,  blood  gushing  from  his  mouth  and  nos- 
trils, his  whole  frame  palpitating  fearfully,  and  his  brow 
bathed  in  sweat,  which  gathered  there  like  rain  drops. 
Thus  he  would  lie  senseless  for  hours,  until,  by  means 
of  opiates  forced  down  his  throat  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  he  would   fall  into  a  disturbed  slumber,  which 
would  gradually  become  composed,  until  he  awoke  per- 
fectly sensible,  but  so  much  the  weaker,  and  consequently, 
so  much  the  worse  than  he  was  prior  to  the  fit. 

His  poor  wife,  of  course,  had  more  than  she  could  do 
to  attend  to  him,  and  my  kind  wife  did  all  she  could  to 
help  her,  and  we  saw  that  s"he  and  her  husband  wanted 
for  nothing. 

How  often  I  sought  to  gain  admittance  to  see  this  pic- 
ture ;  but  no.  Discoursing  freely  enough  upon  all  other 
matters,  on  this  he  was  reserved  ;  nor  was  his  wife  more 
enlightened  than  I,  and  yet  we  both  knew  it  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  his  horrible  visions.  So  jealous  was  he 


100  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

of  it,  that  his  bed  was  laid  across  the  closet  where  it  was 
kept,  a-nd  no  person  could  enter  the  closet  without 
awakening  him. 

So,  for  a  few  weeks  longer,  passed  the  time  away ; 
when,  one  mornirfg,  just  as  I  was  about  to  start  abroad 
on  my  business  for  the  day,  a  note  was  put  in  my  hand 
by  a  dirty  messenger,  who  said  it  was  from  Mrs.  Jansen. 
I  opened  and  read : 

"  Oh  !  Dr. ,  pray  come  quickly.  I  fear  my  hus- 
band is  dying — is  dead.  Oh  !  doctor — that  picture — it 
is  too  horrible.  KATRINA  JANSEN. 

"  Water-street,  N.  Y." 

I  immediately  drove  into  town  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
and  on  reaching  the  house  in  Water-street,  I  hurried  up 
to  the  apartments  occupied  by  the  Jansens.  I  knocked 
at  the  door.  No  answer  was  returned.  Again  I  knocked, 
and  again  with  the  same  result :  at  length  I  entered  the 
room,  and  found  Mrs.  Jansen  had  swooned  beside  the 
dead  body  of  her  husband.  The  children  had  been,  by 
me,  placed  out  some  days  before.  He  had  evidently  died 
in  one  of  the  furious  fits  to  which  he  had  been  subject ; 
and  now  the  secret  was  disclosed.  The  slight  partition 
had  been  torn  down ;  the  narrow  couch  had  been  thrust 
aside  :  the  curtain — the  sacred  curtain  that  was  drawn 
before  the  easel  was  rudely  torn,  and  was  partly  grasped 
in  the  hand  of  the  dead  man,  while  the  other  hand  held 
a  poker,  which  in  his  sane  moments  he  was  too  weak  to 
have  lifted  ;  but  with  it  he  had  thrust  a  large  hole  through 
the  canvas,  and  the  picture  stood  exposed  in  its — what 
shall  I  say? — how  describe  it? — its  horrible  perfection — 
its  exquisitely  truthful  monstrosity — its  soul-harrowing, 
blood-curdling  hideousness. 

What  think  you,  reader,  was  the  subject  which  for 
years  had  occupied  the  imagination  of  the  young  painter 
— over  which  he  had  wasted  the  midnight  oil,  and  toiled 
days  and  nights,  while  others  slept — over  which  his  im- 
agination had  brooded  until  his  mind  had  become  tinc- 
tured with  insanity  ?  The  picture  was  a  full-sized  paint- 


POOR      ARTIST. 

is  had  been  drawn  aside,  and  the    picture  which  hiul  engruwed   the   attention  <.f  tin-  iirlint  I'M 


Th» 
y«ur»,  HIM!  which  had  at  lint  driven  hii 

ppkor   wne  atill    rLificlly   frns|>.-,l   in  his  hiin.l  ; 
niiami;  u|»jn  the  fcody  of  her  b«luved  unit  ill 


i|i. .»,.,!    in  all  its  horror. 
I    l*ilide   the    l-ouch,    Inl    i,,.,,r    heHrt-hr.'ke 
KM!  husband.—  (  tui/j :tr  I'll. 


.   but 
fe   had   Inlleil 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  101 

ing  of  "  Satan  sitting  upon  a  throne  of  lurid  flame^  sup- 
ported by  columns  of  writhing,  hissing  serpents,  and  sur- 
rounded by  his  court  of  arch- demons,  receiving  a  damned 
soul"  Horrible  as  was  the  conception,  it  was  carried  out 
upon  the  canvas  with  a  degree  of  hideous  minuteness 
that  made  the  flesh  creep  upon  the  bones  to  gaze  at  it, 
and  yet  which  fascinated  the  gazer  as  the  eye  of  the  rat- 
tlesnake is  said  to  fascinate  its  victim.  The  awful, 
demon-like  beauty  and  majesty  of  the  features  of  the 
arch-fiend,  acted  as  a  foil  to  the  expression  of  the  demons 
who  formed  his  conclave,  in  whose  countenances  every 
malignant  passion  of  humanity  was  represented.  The 
sulphurous  aspect  of  the  atmosphere,  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  throne  was  seated  and  the  court  was  held,  was 
so  life-like  that  one  almost  involuntarily  snuffed  the  foul 
vapor,  while  the  lurid  light  reflected  from  the  bottomless 
pit  of  flame  beneath,  which  gave  an  awfully  supernatu- 
ral aspect  to  the  heavy  canopy  of  smoke  that  rolled  above 
and  in  the  back  ground,  appeared  actually  to  resound 
with  the  shrieks  of  the  damned ;  but  it  was  upon  the  last 
victim — the  last  re-embodied  soul  brought  into  the  horri- 
ble Tartarus,  that  the  painter  had  exhausted  his  imagi- 
nation. The  dreadful,  unspeakable  anguish  of  the  fea- 
tures was  utterly  indescribable,  and  strange  to  say,  amidst 
the  ghastly  contortions  of  the  utmost  extreme  of  horror, 
the  features  of  the  painter  himselfj  Hans  Jansen,  were 
discernible.  I  drew  the  curtain  before  the  picture :  I  felt 
my  own  brain  reel,  and  I  could  endure  the  sight  no  lon- 
ger— it  was  too  horrible,  too  real,  and  yet  strangely, 
strangely  fascinating.  I  should  have  mentioned  that  1 
had  raised  the  fainting  widow  to  a  couch,  and  adminis- 
tered some  restoratives,  and  sent  for  such  assistance  as 
was  necessary  to  arrange  the  corpse  of  the  poor  deceased 
artist. 

The  only  will  he  had  left  was,  that  this  picture  should 
be  covered  up  and  sealed  by  the  medical  man  who  at- 
tended upon  him  during  his  last  moments,  and  sent  to 
the  King  of  Denmark.  Mutilated  as  it  unfortunately 


102  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

was,  it  was  truly  a  Royal  legacy — and  the  work  of  a  life* 
time  of  genius. 

I  followed  the  directions  of  the  painter,  and  sent  the 
picture — it  was  all  he  possessed — to  his  native  Denmark. 
His  wife,  for  the  time  being,  I  provided  for,  and  in  due 
time  I  received  a  letter  from  a  Danish  official  accepting 
the  legacy  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign,  and  enclosing 
an  ample  remuneration  for  my  trouble,  and  abundant 
means  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  widow  and  children 
of  the  artist  to  Copenhagen,  whither  I  saw  them  em- 
barked, and  whither  they  arrived  in  safety. 

Many  years  have  since  passed  away,  and  I  have  never 
since  heard  of  the  fortunes  of  the  widow  or  of  the  fate 
of  the  picture.  Perhaps  it  is  still  among  the  unfinished 
works  of  genius  in  the  possession  of  his  Majesty  of  Den- 
mark. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  103 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    MYSTERY. 

ONE  stormy  night  in  February,  184-,  I  was  awakened 
from  a  sound  sleep  by  a  determined  ring  at  my  door  bell. 
I  arose  and  asked  what  was  wanted. 

"  Does  Dr. reside  here  ?"  was  the  reply  in  a  man's 

gruff  voice. 

"  He  does,"  I  replied ;  "  for  what  purpose  is  he  re- 
quired ?" 

"  A  lady  residing  in street,"  (mentioning  a  street 

near  by),  "  has  been  suddenly  seized  with  a  succession 
of  fainting  fits,  and  we  are  becoming  alarmed,  as  we  have 
tried  every  resource  we  are  acquainted  with  to  relieve 
her,  without  success." 

I  unbolted  the  door  and  admitted  a  rough-looking  man 
in  a  large  white  overcoat,  whom,  if  it  had  been  at  the  pre- 
sent period,  I  should  have  taken  to  have  been  a  returned 
Californian. 

"  Wait  a  few  moments,  if  you  please,"  said  I,  "  while 
I  prepare  myself  to  encounter  the  inclement  weather,  and 
I  will  accompany  you  to  the  lady's  residence.  You  are, 
I  presume,  a  servant  of  the  family,"  for  the  house  the 
man  had  mentioned  was  a  large  dwelling,  of  very  fashion- 
able exterior. 

"  No,. not  exactly  a  servant  of  the  family,"  replied  the 
man,  in  the  same  peculiar  gruff  tone  of  voice  I  had  pre- 
viously remarked ;  "  but  I  am  the  servant  of  the  young 
lady's  husband." 

From  this  reply,  I  imagined  that  the  invalid  was  a 
visitor  to  the  resident  family  of  the  house,  and  I  hastened 
up  stairs  to  prepare  for  my  midnight  visit,  .in  no  very 
pleasant  humor  at  being  thus  disturbed  from  rny  slumbers, 
and  especially  such  no  a  tempestuous  night.  However, 
I  was  tolerably  used  to  these  things,  and  made  as  little 


104  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

of  it  as  possible  under  the  circumstances — a  saint  would 
have  been  excused  for  grumbling  a  little  at  the  perver- 
sity of  those  people  who  sometimes  suddenly  fall  sick 
without  taking  weather  into  consideration. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  was  ready,  and  accompanied  by 
my  gruff  and  taciturn  companion,  I  picked  my  steps 
through  the  mud,  almost  carried  off  my  feet  at  times  by 
the  force  of  the  wind,  to  the  residence  of  the  sick  lady. 

On  entering  the  house,  I  was  met  by  a  female,  who 
whispered  some  words  to  the  man,  and  then  requested 
me  to  follow  her  up  stairs. 

"  Had  you  not  better  get  a  light  ?"  I  said ;  for  the  night 
was  pitch  dark,  and  the  passage  way  of  the  dwelling 
consequently  so  dark  that  it  was  only  by  her  voice  that 
I  had  distinguished  the  person  who  spoke  to  be  a  female. 

''  I  have  no  candle,"  she  replied ;  "  but  if  you  will  keep 
close  behind  me,  I  will  conduct  you  to  the  apartment 
occupied  by  the  lady  and  her  husband." 

I  managed  to  stumble  up  three  pairs  of  stairs  behind 
the  female,  and  then  she  led  me  along  a  dark  passage, 
from  the  end  of  which  we  mounted  a  fourth  flight,  and 
then  turning  suddenly  to  the  right,  she  knocked  at  the 
door  of  a  room. 

"  Come  in,"  was  the  reply  to  the  knock.  "  Have  you 
brought  the  doctor?" 

The  female  made  no  answer,  but  pushed  me  into  the 
room,  and  closing  the  door,  immediately  began  to  descend 
the  stairs. 

The  apartment  was  a  small  bedroom  almost  destitute 
of  furniture,  in  one  corner  of  which  was  a  rude  bed,  on 
which  lay  a  young  female  of  not  more  than  sixteen  years 
of  age.  Her  only  companion  was  a  youth  who  scarcely 
appeared  to  have  attained  the  age  of  legal  majority. 
Both  were  attired  in  coarse  plain  garments  ;  but  it  needed 
not  a  second  glance  to  perceive  that  the  young  man  be- 
longed to  a  higher  class  of  society  than  that  indicated  by 
his  garb. 

I  noticed  that  his  hands  were  soft  and  delicate,  though 
his  complexion  was  sun-burned,  and  his  features  bore  an 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  105 

air  of  refinement  and  good  breeding.  On  the  little  finger 
of  his  right  hand  sparkled  a  diamond  ring,  quite  out  of 
keeping,  with  what  I  saw  at  once  was  an  assumed  attire, 
and  his  tone  of  voice  was  gentle,  manly,  and  betrayed 
the  man  of  education. 

"  I  arn  glad  to  have  you  come,  doctor,"  he  said,  "  though 
indeed  it  is  only  the  urgent  necessity  of  the  case  that 
could  have  allowed  me  to  send  for  your  assistance  on 
such  a  tempestuous  night  as  this.  Pray  attend  immedi- 
ately to  my  wife,  and  do,  for  God's  sake,  see  if  you  can 
do  anything  to  revive  her."  His  voice  trembled  with 
concern  and  emotion  as  he  spoke,  and  I  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  pay  attention  to  the  invalid. 

There  were  clearly  discernible  evidences  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  lady,  that  she  also  had  for  some  myste- 
rious reason,  assumed  the  disguise  of  a  person  of  far 
inferior  condition  to  that  to  which  she  really  belonged, 
and  I  was  curious  enough  to  satisfy  myself  by  glancing 
immediately  at  her  small  white  hand,  that  she  really  was 
the  wife  of  the  youth  who  had  addressed  me.  Sure 
enough,  there  was  the  wedding  ring,  the  outward  sym- 
bol of  marriage  at  least,  upon  her  third  finger,  and  yet 
as  I  examined  her  features  more  closely,  as  she  lay  in  a 
death-like  faint,  I  saw  that  she  was  a  mere  child. 

"  Have  you  any  one  whom  you  can  send  to  my  house 
with  a  message  ?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  man,  "  the  person  who  called 
for  you,  will  go  for  anything  you  may  require." 

"  The  young  lady,"  said  I,  "  requires  stronger  restora- 
tives than  any  I  have  brought  with  me.  I  will  just 
write  a  few  directions  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  the  mes- 
senger can  go  to  the  house  and  tell  the  servant  man  to 
provide  him  with  the  medicines  I  want.  I  have  used 
Thomas  to  these  little  things,  and  he  will  understand  the 
note." 

The  young  man  searched  his  pockets  for  a  piece  of 
paper,  and  at  length  handed  me  a  card,  which  he  took 
from  his  vest  pocket ;  but  as  I  was  about  to  take  it,  he 
hastily  withdrew  it.  muttering  something  which  sounded 


106  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

very  like  an  oath,  and  after  fumbling  sometime  longer, 
he  produced  a  letter,  the  back  of  which  he  tore  off  and 
gave  to  me. 

I  wrote  the  prescription,  and  by  this  time  the  young 
man  had  called  up  the  messenger,  who  immediately  start- 
ed on  his  errand. 

I  saw  that  there  was  some  mystery  involved;  but 
under  the  circumstances  I  thought  it  advisable  not  to 
appear  to  notice  it. 

"  Do  you  ascribe  this  sudden  attack  of  fainting  on  the 
part  of  your  wife  to  any  particular  cause  ? "  said  I,  when 
the  man  had  left  the  room  with  the  prescription. 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,  beyond  the  fact  that  we 
have  travelled  a  long  distance  during  the  last  three  days, 
without  hardly  stopping  to  rest  for  a  moment,  and  to- 
day was  stormy,  and  Jane  got  wet  through,  poor  girl ! " 
replied  the  young  man. 

He  then  took  one  of  the  hands  of  the  girl  in  his,  and 
appeared  to  be  desirous  of  avoiding  further  conversation. 
I  also  watched,  with  painful  interest,  the  pale,  yet  beau- 
tiful —  almost  childish  features — of  my  patient,  who 
showed  no  symptoms  of  reviving. 

"  Poor  Jane !"  said  the  young  man,  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  girl  he  called  his  wife,  although  I  was  not  yet  satis- 
fied that  that  was  really  the  case,  "this  is  too  bad.  By 
to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  at  furthest,  we  should " 

He  suddenly  stopped,  as  if  recollecting  that  he  was 
not  alone,  and  glanced  at  me ;  after  which  he  remained 
silent,  still  retaining  his  hold  of  the  girl's  hand. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  messenger  returned  with  the 
restoratives  for  which  he  had  been  despatched,  and  I  im- 
mediately began  to  administer  them.  I  had  been  averse 
to  using  those  I  had  brought  with  me,  for  I  knew,  if 
they  were  unsuccessful,  as  I  doubted  not  they  would  be, 
their  application  would  only  make  matters  worse.  At 
the  same  time  I  was  under  little  apprehension  for  the 
girl,  for  I  saw  that  she  was  only  utterly  prostrated  with 
sheer  fatigue. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  to  the  great  delight  of 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  107 

the  young  man,  as  well  as  much  to  my  own  satisfaction, 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that  my  patient  was  gradu- 
ally reviving,  and  in  another  half  hour  she  was  able  to 
sit  up. 

Her  first  movement  was  one  of  suspicion  and  affright, 
as  she  saw  me  standing  by  the  bedside,  and  she  looked 
round,  apparently  as  if  striving  to  recall  her  recollec- 
tions. 

The  young  man  addressed  her,  and  immediately  her 
features  assumed  a  joyous  aspect. 

"  Is  all  right,  Frank  ?"  she  said. 

"  Yes  love ;  but  you  have  had  a  bad  time  of  it,"  he 
replied. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  well  enough  in  the  morning,"  she 
continued,  smiling,  "  after  a  few  hours  rest.  I  think  I 
can  stand  another  da^'s  journeying,  after  having  gone 
through  three  without  any  rest." 

"  Will  my  wife  be  able  to  travel  by  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, doctor?"  said  the  young  man. 

"I  certainly  should  not  advise  it,"  said  I,  "at  all 
events,  every  precaution  must  be  taken  against  cold  and 
fatigue.  Were  I  in  your  place,  I  would  postpone  my 
departure  for  a  day  or  two  at  least." 

"  If  you  were  in  my  place,  you  would  do  as  I  do," 
replied  he :  "  and  now  doctor,  if  you  have  done  all  you 
can  do  for  Jane,  here  is  your  fee,"  putting  into  my  hand 
a  bank  note  of  very  considerable  value ;  so  large  an 
amount  indeed,  that  I  hesitated  to  accept  it. 

"  Take  it,  doctor,  take  it,  without  more  words,"  said 
the  youth,  forcing  it  into  my  hand.  "  We  have  abun- 
dance of  funds.  You  have  no  doubt  already  perceived 
that  we  are  very  different  persons  from  what  our  dis- 
guise would  lead  those  who  have  not  come  into  contact 
with  us,  as  you  have,  to  suppose  us  to  be.  Perhaps 
some  day  I  may  explain,  what  now  must  appear  a  mys- 
tery to  you ;  but  before  you  go  you  must  swear  that  you 
will  not  mention  what  you  have  seen  to-night  to  any 
one,  for  one  week  from  this  date." 

I  hesitated  for  I  was  somewhat  irritated  at  being  thus 


108  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

peremptorily  addressed,  and  I  was  not  sure  that  I  would 
be  doing  right  to  keep  the  matter  secret. 

"  Swear  you  must,  and  on  this  book,  too,"  said  he, 
taking  up  a  Testament,  which  he  had  previously  taken 
from  his  valise,  "  or  you  do  not  leave  this  room  alive 
(producing  a  revolver  from  his  breast  pocket)  after  hav 
ing  thus  far  succeeded,  I  will  not  now  lose  the  game." 

I  was  alone  and  unarmed,  and  he  who  thus  addressed 
me,  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  he  meant  what  he  said, 
although  but  a  boy  in  years,  was  of  a  stout,  muscular 
frame,  and  much  stronger  than  I,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
gruff  looking  man  who  I  knew  was  in  the  house  and 
ready  to  afford  any  assistance  to  the  youth  that  he 
needed,  and  I  had  already  begau  to  surmise  that  these 
persons,  with  the  woman  who  had  ^hown  me  up  stairs, 
were  the  only  occupants  of  the  house.  I,  therefore,  took 
the  required  oath,  and  then  was  accompanied  by  the 
young  man  down  stairs  and  to  the  outside  door,  where 
he  left  me,  observing: 

"  You  needn't  be  alarmed,  doctor ;  no  harm  has  been 
done  and  none  is  intended.  Perhaps  some  day  you  will 
enjoy  the  joke  with  me.  Good  night." 

I  retraced  my  steps  homeward,  certainly  thinking  the 
whole  aifair  had  not  much  the  appearance  of  a  joke.  I 
kept  my  oath  of  secrecy  until  the  term  specified  had 
expired,  when  I  at  once  made  inquiries  respecting  the 
occupants  of  the  dwelling.  I  learnt,  however,  that  it  had 
lately  been  sold  to  a  stranger  who  resided  in  Maine,  and 
that  a  female  had  been  put  in  charge  of  it,  but  she  had 
suddenly  absented  herself  a  week  before,  and  though 
search  had  been  made,  no  trace  of  her  had  been  discov- 
ered. 

After  a  time,  the  matter,  strange  as  it  was,  began  to 
grow  out  of  my  recollection,  and  I  seldom  thought  of  it. 

Two  years  afterwards  I  had  occasion  to  visit  Saratoga, 
and  while  stopping  at  the  hotel,  I  noticed  a  man  in  livery, 
whose  features  I  seemed  to  have  some  recollection  of,  but 
where  I  could  not  say.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  he 
knew  me,  for  he  gazed  several  times  earnestly  at  me. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  109 

At  length  he  went  up  stairs,  and  in  a  few  moments  re- 
turned and  asked  me  if  I  would  go  up  to  No.  69  and  see 
his  master,  who  desired  to  speak  with  me. 

I  did  as  he  desired,  and  when  I  reached  the  door  of 
the  room,  it  was  opened  by  a  handsome  young  man  in 
the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of  the  TJ.  S.  Navy.  His  fea 
tures,  too,  I  thought,  I  had  a  distinct  recollection  of. 

"  You,"  he  said,  "are  Doctor ,  of  New  York." 

"I  am,  sir,"  I  replied,  ''and  I  have  seen  you  before, 
somewhere,  but  my  memory  fails  me  as  to  when  or  where 
it  was." 

He  shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand.  "  Do  you  know 
this  lady  ?''  he  added.  "Perhaps  her  features  may  as- 
sist your  recollection,"  introducing  to  me  a  beautiful 
young  women,  who  had  an  infant  about  a  year  old  in  her 
arms. 

I  immediately  recognized  her  as  the  young  girl  I  had 

attended  on  the  night  of  the  mystery,  in street,  New 

York. 

"  My  name  is  S ,"  said  the  young  man.     "  I  told 

you  that  some  day  I  would  clear  up  the  mystery  which 
enveloped  that  visit  of  yours  to  Jane  at  New  York,  and 
I  will  do  it  now  in  a  few  words. 

"  I  am  the  owner  of  large  cotton  plantations  in  South 
Carolina,  and  though  I  now  wear  this  uniform,  I  have 
just  returned  from  the  last  voyage  I  shall  make  to  sea 
as  an  officer  of  the  navy.  This  lady  (my  wife)  is  the 
daughter  of  a  gentleman,  whose  residence  is  in  Maine. 
We  were  attached  to  each  other  from  childhood,  and  at 
a  very  early  nge,  in  fact,  when  mere  children,  were  en- 
gaged to  each  other.  My  parents  died  shortly  after  I 
first  went  to  sea,  and  my  father  left  behind  him  a  will, 
appointing  my  uncle  as  my  guardian  until  I  became  of 
age,  and  in  this  will  there  was  a  clause,  which,  in  case  of 
my  marriage  before  I  was  of  age,  without  the  consent  of 
my  uncle,  would  deprive  me  of  one  of  the  largest  plan- 
tations my  father  possessed,  which  was  to  revert  to  his 
brother  (my  uncle.)  The  old  gentleman  wanted  me  to 
marry  an  adopted  child  of  his,  but  neither  Jane  nor  I 


110  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

(smiling  at  his  wife)  could  entertain  the  idea  of  this  ar- 
rangement, and  we  agreed  to  manage  matters  so  as  to 
circumvent  the  plan  of  the  old  gentleman,  who  swore 
that  he  would  act  up  to  the  power  given  him  by  my 
father's  will,  in  case  I  married  Jane  before  I  was  of  age 
Jane  was  going  with  her  parents  to  Holland,  whence 
they  came,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  and  I  was  go- 
ing to  sail  in  a  fortnight,  on  a  two  years'  cruise.  We 
neither  of  us  wished  to  defer  the  happy  moment,  for  two, 
or  possibly  three  years,  besides,  we  knew  not  what  might 
occur  to  balk  us  in  the  interim,  especially  as  her  parents 
wished  her  to  marry  a  rich  old  Dutch  burgomaster,  whom, 
by  the  way,  she  had  never  seen.  So  we  arranged  mat- 
ters in  this  way.  I  went  to  visit  her,  secretly,  at  her 

father's   house    in  ,   Maine,   and  persuaded  her 

to  elope  with  me.  I  just  wanted  nine  days  of  coming  of 
age,  and  it  would  not  do  to  get  married  until  then ;  but, 
on  the  following  day  to  that,  the  frigate  to  which  I  be- 
longed was  to  sail  to  the  Mediterranean.  So  we  deter- 
mined to  get  married  on  the  very  day  of  my  attaining 
my  majority,  and  thus  to  cheat  the  old  folks  on  both 
sides.  My  frigate  was  at  Norfolk,  so  we  had  but  little 
time  to  spare,  and  what  time  we  had,  we  made  the  best 
of,  I  can  tell  you,  until  Jane  fell  sick  at  New  York.  We 
were  not  actually  married  then,  though  I  had  placed  the 
ring  on  her  finger,  and  told  her  she  was  my  wife.  The 
house  at  which  we  stopped  that  night  had  been  purchased 
by  Jane's  father,  and  it  was  an  old  nurse  of  hers,  who 
was  on  our  side,  who  had  been  put  in  charge  of  it.  When 
Jane  felt  herself  getting  unwell,  she  told  me  this,  and 
immediately  I  went  to  the  house  and  told  the  old  woman 
all,  and  she  agreed  to  accompany  us. 

On  the  following  morning,  though  Jane  was  still  weak, 
we  started  and  got  through  the  business  in  style.  I  had 
plenty  of  funds,  and  I  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  being 
two  whole  years  away  from  my  wife ;  neither,  at  that 
time,  could  I  leave  the  service  with  honor  to  myself. 
So  I  had  previously  determined  that  Jane  should  take 
passage  in  a  merchant  vessel  from  New  York,  that  was 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  Ill 

to  sail  the  very  day  after  the  frigate,  to  Toulon,  the  port 
to  which  the  frigate  was  also  bound,  and  she  did  so  ;  and 
while  at  Toulon,  I  often  visited  her  on  shore.  The  cap- 
tain knew  my  story ;  indeed,  I  told  him  it  myself — and 
he  gave  me  leave  of  absence  for  weeks  together.  My 
wife  sailed  for  the  United  States  a  fortnight  before  the 
frigate  left  the  station  for  home,  and  arrived  two  days 
before  her ;  so  that  I  had  the  chance  to  receive  my  wife, 
on  her  arrival,  about  a  month  since.  The  reason  that  we 
disguised  ourselves  was  for  fear  that  Jane's  father  might 
discover  our  flight  and  cause  his  daughter's  arrest ;  and 
the  cause  of  my  making  you  take  that  oath,  which  seemed 
to  stick  in  your  throat  so,  was  that  Jane  might  not  be 
incommoded  until  she  got  clear  off ;  but  the  pistol  wasn't 
loaded,  so  you  had  no  need  to  be  so  frightened — though 
I  dare  say  you  have  often  made  an  awful  mysterious 
story  out  of  the  circumstances.  The  old  folks,  to  con- 
clude my  story,  are  now  reconciled  to  what  they  cannot 
help  ;  and  here's  my  first  born.  Isn't  he  a  spanking  boy  ? 
His  mother  says — '  he's  the  very  image  of  his  father  ;' 
though  I  can't  say  that  I  can  see  it.  And  now,  doctor, 

you'll  dine  with  us  to-day  ;  and  if  you  ever  come  to , 

South  Carolina,  my  house  is  open  to  you." 

I  did  dine  with  him,  and  spent  a  very  pleasant  day ; 
and  I  have  since  visited  him  at  his  place  in  South  Caro- 
lina. He  is  now  the  happy  father  of  five  children,  and 
one  of  my  most  esteemed  friends. 

The  servant  man,  I  should  have  mentioned,  was  an  old 
sailor,  who  belonged  to  Charleston,  and  who  served  in 
the  same  ship  and  was  devotedly  attached  to  S . 


112  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 


CHAPTEE  IX. 
THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER;  OR  VIRTUE  REWARDED. 

HAVING  occasion,  during  the  summer  of  the  year  1842; 
to  visit  Boston,  I  was  invited  by  a  medical  friend  to  visit 
the  hospital  in  that  city.  Among  the  patients  there,  was 
a  young  woman  in  whose  behalf  I  could  not  help  feeling 
an  interest,  although  I  was  an  entire  stranger  to  her ; 
there  was  something  in  her  intelligent  countenance,  and 
the  intellectual  dark  grey  eyes,  which  beamed  beneath  a 
wide,  nobly  formed  brow,  that  was  eminently  calculated 
to  create  sympathy  in  the  beholder ;  but  that  which  at 
first  attracted  my  notice,  was  the  sweet  and  gentle  tones 
of  her  voice — perhaps  one  of  the  greatest  charms  in 
woman. 

She  was  asked  how  she  felt  that  morning,  by  my  friend, 
and  she  replied — 

"  Stronger,  I  think,  doctor.  Do  you  know  that  I  was 
actually  able  to  sit  up  in  bed  until  9  o'clock  last  night ; 
and  see  here,"  she  continued,  showing  a  bonnet  on  which 
she  had  been  at  work,  nearly  finished,  "  I  did  the  greater 
portion  of  this  last  night.  If  I  get  on  so  well,  I  shall 
soon  be  able  to  leave  the  hospital  and  return  home ;  my 
poor  mother  and  my  little  brother  must  miss  me  so,"  she 
added,  while  the  tears  sprung  to  her  eyes.  "  How  they 
will  be  able  to  get  on  much  longer  without  me  I  do  not 
know." 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  my  friend,  "if  you  com- 
mence to  tax  yourself  in  this  manner  as  soon  as  you  be- 
gin to  feel  a  little  stronger,  I  cannot  give  you  any  hope 
of  leaving  the  hospital.  You  will  occasion  a  relapse 
which  may  perhaps  render  you  an  invalid  for  the  remain- 
der of  your  life,  and  incapacitate  you  altogether  from 
labor  of  any  kind.  As  to  your  mother  and  brother,  havo 


STEAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  113 

no  fear  for  them.     While  you  are  under  my  care,  be  as- 
sured they  will  also  be  taken  care  of." 

"  But  it  is  so  humiliating,  dear  doctor,  for  my  poor 
mother  to  be  indebted  for  subsistence  to  the  charity  of 
strangers;  not  that  I  am  ungrateful  for  your  kindness 
and  that  of  other  friends — far  from  it ;  but  I  should  be 
so  much  better  pleased  if  they  were  once  again  indebted 
to  me  alone,  upon  whom  they  have  a  natural  claim." 

"  No  doubt  of  that,  Miss  Summerville ; — no  doubt  of 
that,"  said  my  friend  ;  and  it  ft  for  that  very  reason  that 
you  have  made  so  many  warm  friends.  Your  noble  in- 
dependence of  spirit  has  won  the  admiration  of  all  who 
know  your  story;  and  those  who  now,  during  your  sick- 
ness, assist  your  mother,  do  not  consider  that  they  are 
doing  a  simple  act  of  charity — but  merely  paying  that 
debt  of  Christian  love  which  we  owe  each  other  in  the 
hour  of  trouble  and  affliction."  Then  he  added  cheer- 
fully, "  Now,  Miss  Summerville,  I  shall  positively  insist 
that  you  do  not,  henceforward,  work  more  than  one  hour 
a  day,  just  to  keep  your  hand  in,  you  know,  and  for 
amusement,  until  you  receive  my  further  permission ;  and 
as  to  that  very  pretty  bonnet,  when  it  is  finished,  I  shall 
insist  upon  being  the  purchaser,  at  my  own  price,  mind — 
you  milliners  are  so  extortionate — for  my  little  daughter." 

The  poor  girl  smiled,  and  yet  the  smile  was  a  sad  one, 
for  a  tear  fell  from  her  eye,  even  while  the  smile  yet  lin- 
gered on  her  lips,  as  she  said  : 

"  I  suppose  I  must  do  as  you  bid  me,  doctor ;  but  in- 
deed it  is  wearisome  to  be  so  many  hours  here  alone  in 
the  watches  of  the  night,  when  sleep  refuses  to  close  the 
eyelids,  and  the  thoughts  that  are  called  into  existence 
become  painful  and  oppressive  from  the  impotent  desire 
one  possesses  to  cast  them  off  and  to  sink,  at  least,  into 
a  temporary  forgetful  ness  of  one's  afflictions." 

"  Wearisome  enough  it  must  be — it  is — my  dear  Miss 
Summerville,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  I  myself  have  ex- 
perienced the  wretchedness  one  suffers  under  such  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  we  must  not  repine.  Patience,  my  good 
young  lady — patience,  and  all  will  yet  be  well," 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

"  No,  I  know  it  is  wrong — sinful  to  repine,  especially 
when  one  is  blessed  with  kind  sympathizing  friends,  as  I 
am,  and  indeed,  I  strive  to  be  thankful  to  God  for  his 
goodness  to  me.  Things  might,  you  know,  have  been 
so  much  worse.  Suppose,  for  instance,  I  had  not  learnt, 
for  the  sake  of  amusement,  the  milliner's  art,  what,  when 
misfortune  came  upon  us,  would  have  become  of  my 
mother  and  my  little  brother  ?" 

"  Have  patience,  then,  my  dear  girl,  and  I  think  I  can 
promise  you  that  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  weeks 
more,  you  will  be  able  to  go  home  again." 

So  saying,  he  turned  away  to  pay  his  customary  round 
of  visits  to  other  patients. 

"  An  interesting  girl,  that?"  said  he  to  me  as  I  walked 
by  his  side. 

"  Very  much  so,"  I  replied,  "  I  was  just  about  to  make 
the  same  remark.  Who  is  she  ?" 

"  The  story  is  too  long  to  tell  just  now,"  said  he,  "  wait 
until  I  have  got  through  my  morning  labors,  and  as  we 
walk  home  I  will  tell  it  you." 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  we  left  the  hospital,  and  once 
out  of  the  city,  for  my  friend  lived  a  mile  or  two  in  the 
country,  I  reminded  him  of  his  promise. 

"Ah  1"  said  he,  "  I  recollect ;  you  wish  me  to  tell  you 
about  my  interesting  patient  in  the  female  ward.  Well, 
then,  Miss  Summerville  is  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman 
who  was,  at  one  time,  one  of  the  wealthiest  merchants  in 
one  of  the  largest  of  the  western  cities  of  the  Union. 
She  is  now,  I  suppose,  about  twenty  years  of  age,  and 
until  the  age  of  fourteen  she  never  knew  what  it  was, 
scarcely,  to  wash  her  own  hands.  She  was  nursed  in  the 
lap  of  luxury.  You  see  she  is  now  very  pretty,  although, 
poor  child,  she  is  much  worn  down  with  incessant  labor, 
care  and  sickness.  When  I  first  knew  her,  when  she 
was  in  her  thirteenth  year,  she  was,  I  thought,  the  most 
lovely  creature  I  had  ever  set  eyes  uron — a  perfect  little 
sylph.  She  had  but  one  brother  who  is  now  not  more 
than  nine  years  of  age,  and  who  was  then  a  babe  in  arms 
— three  children,  two  boys  and  a  girl,  all  younger  than 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  115 

her  (she  is  the  eldest  child,)  died  while  infants,  and  all 
her  parents'  love  and  care  were  bestowed  on  this  daughter, 
who  was  thus  spared  to  them.  Had  she  not  been  of  a 
most  amiable  disposition,  she  must  have  become  utterly 
spoiled ;  for  her  parents  doted  upon  her,  and  anticipated 
her  every  desire ;  but  in  the  early  part  of  the  commer- 
cial crisis  of  1836,  her  father,  who  was  a  great  speculator, 
failed,  although  at  one  time  he  had  been  considered  a 
millionaire,  in  fact  he  became  utterly  ruined — could  not 
pay  six  cents  in  the  dollar.  He  had  speculated  so  wildly, 
and  as  it  appeared,  so  far  beyond  what  his  actual  means 
should  have  allowed  him  to  do,  that  his  creditors  were 
exasperated,  and  at  the  time,  though  there  was  really  no 
foundation  for  the  imputation,  he  was  charged  with  actual 
fraud. 

At  all  events,  at  a  period  when  every  body  was  strug- 
gling to  save  themselves  from  ruin,  he  met  with  little 
sympathy,  and  being  a  man  of  very  nervous  and  excita- 
ble temperament,  he  felt  deeply  the  plunge  from  wealth 
into  poverty,  and  still  more  deeply  the  apparent  forfeiture 
of  his  fair  fame.  He  did  not  long  survive  his  disgrace, 
as  he  considered  it — and  so,  in  fact,  to  a  certain  degree 
it  was — for  though,  doubtless,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
crisis,  all  would  have  gone  well  with  him,  he  ought  not 
to  have  speculated  so  rashly,  knowing  as  he  must  have 
known,  that  his  losses,  should  he  meet  with  any,  would 
seriously  involve  others  who  implicitly  trusted  in  his 
honor.  One  day  he  came  home  more  than  usually  ex- 
cited. If  I  mistake  not,  he  said  to  his  wife  and  child, 
that  he  had  been  openly  insulted  in  the  street,  and  he  re 
tired  in  a  state  of  great  perturbation  of  mind  into  his 
bed-room.  When  Mary  Summerville,  his  daughter — 
the  young  lady  we  have  just  quitted — went  to  call  him 
down  to  bis  dinner  an  hour  afterwards,  she  could  obtain 
no  reply,  and  at  length  she  entered  the  room  and  found 
her  father  lying  a  corpse  upon  the  bed.  A  strong  scent 
of  bitter  almonds  pervaded  the  atmosphere  of  the  room ; 
for  the  unhappy  man  had  taken  prussic  acid — the  empty 
bottle  being  afterwards  found  in  bed. 


116  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  distress  of  the  fa- 
mily, but  shall  simply  state  that  his  wretched  wife  would 
live  no  longer  in  the  town  of  poverty  and  infliction, 
where  she  had  at  one  time  been  the  leader  of  the  ton,  and 
looked  up  to  by  the  most  fashionable  society.  She  sola 
off  the  remnant  of  her  furniture  and  came  on  to  Boston, 
with  the  intention  of  setting  up  a  school  for  young  la- 
dies. But  she  was  not  composed  of  the  material  that  is 
fitted  to  stem  the  tide  of  adversity.  She  was  a  weak- 
minded  woman,  whose  only  delight  consisted  in  the 
fashionable  follies  and  so  called  delights  in  which  she 
had,  since  her  early  introduction  into  society,  shone  a 
leading  star.  Poor  creature — perhaps  it  was  not  her 
fault.  "We  should  rather  blame  the  parents  who  had 
never  inculcated  in  her  young  mind,  the  possibility  that 
even  the  wealthiest  and  gayest  amongst  us  may  be  called 
upon,  before  we  die,  to  taste  the  bitter  cup  of  adversity. 

The  school  did  not  prosper,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  Mrs.  Sommerville  paid  no  attention  to  the  scholars, 
and  in  the  course  of  a  year  she  found  herself  worse  off 
than  when  she  left  Ohio — for  she  had  lost  all  her  pupils, 
and  was  considerably  in  debt.  She  became  utterly  list- 
less and  "shiftless,"  as  the  New  England  folks  say,  and 
would  soon  have  been  reduced  to  the  very  verge  of  star- 
vation. Then  it  was  that  the  noble  nature  of  the  daugh- 
ter shone  out.  Poor  young  thing — child  as  she  was,  it 
was  she  who  by  her  assiduous  attention  had  kept  the 
school  together  even  during  the  brief  twelvemonth  it 
lasted,  and  now  when  all  else  failed,  she  turned  her  at- 
tention to  millinery,  in  which  profession  she  was  an 
adept,  having  learnt  it  when  quite  a  child,  little  thinking 
poor,  dear  girl,  she  would  ever  be  called  upon  to  prac- 
tice it  for  a  living.  Since  that  period  she  has  supported 
her  mother  in  decency  and  even  in  comfort.  Ever  cheer- 
ful, she  has  on  every  side  gained  friends,  and  not  only 
that,  but  she  has  paid  for  the  education  of  her  little  bro- 
ther at  one  of  the  best  schools  in  the  city,  and  besides  all. 
this,  I  never  saw  her  yet  pass  a  real  object  of  charity 
without  bestowing  her  mite,  with  a  kind  word,  and  a  look 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  117 

of  sympathy  which  was  worth  far  more  to  the  recipient 
than  the  trifling  donation.  She  has  had  much  to  try  her 
temper  too.  Her  poor  mother's  temper  is  a  shocking  one 
to  put  up  with.  Poor  woman,  she  fancies  all  the  world 
to  be  in  arms  against  her,  and  she  repays  the  contumely 
to  which  she  believes  herself  to  be  subjected,  by  querulous 
taunts  towards  her  faithful  daughter,  who,  the  more  dissat- 
isfied her  mother  is,  seems  the  more  to  strive  to  please  her. 
"Recollect,"  said  she  to  a  friend,  who  once  on  hearing 
the  ill-natured  remarks  of  her  mother,  said  that  were  she 
in  her  place,  and  her  mother  treated  her  so  badly,  when 
she  was  slaving  herself  to  death,  in  order  to  provide  her 
the  means  of  decent  support,  she  would  leave  her  to  shift 
for  herself. 

"  Recollect  what  my  poor  mother  has  had  to  contend 
with.  She  was  not  always  thus.  When  I  was  a  child, 
•*he  doted  on  me  and  anticipated  my  every  desire,  and 
shall  I  not  strive  to  repay  her  former  kindness  now  ?  I 
was  trouble  enough  to  her  once  myself,  I  dare  say— all 
children  are — besides,  I  do  not  wish  my  brother  always 
to  remain  in  the  poverty  he  is  in  at  present,  poor  child ! 
He  shall  have  the  benefit  of  a  good  education  at  least, 
and  perhaps  some  day  he  will  repay  his  sister  for  her 
kindness  to  him.  Indeed  I  am  more  than  repaid  now 
for  any  bitter  privation  I  endure — for  Edward  is  very 
grateful." 

"  Nor  have  I  yet  told  you  all  that  this  poor  gentle  girl 
has  had  to  suffer.  When  she  was  but  a  child,  scarcely 
fourteen,  a  young  man  some  six  or  eight  years  her  senior, 
and  the  son  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  families  in  the  city 
in  which  her  father  resided,  had  already  fallen  in  love 
with  her.  The  two  families  were  very  friendly,  and  the 
young  man  had  known  her  since  childhood.  It  had  al- 
ready been  decided  that  on  her  eighteenth  birth-day  she 
should  marry  George  Milton.  Meanwhile  the  youth  had 
been  sent  by  his  father  to  an  uncle  in  New  Orleans,  who 
was  rich  and  childless,  and  very  much  attached  to  his 
nephew,  whom  he  intended  to  make  his  heir.  When 
Mr.  Summerville  failed,  he  involved  his  friend  Milton 


118  THE  OLD  DOCTOR ;   OB, 

very  considerably,  and  to  poor  Mary's  great  surprise  and 
grief,  she  received,  within  six  months  afterwards,  a  letter 
from  George  Milton,  telling  her  that  in  consequence  of 
the  unfortunate  event  which  had  lately  occurred,  his  fa- 
ther and  uncle  had  both  peremptorily  refused  to  allow 
him  to  consider  himself  as  any  longer  under  engagement 
to  her,  and  that  from  that  time  forward  she  must  under- 
stand that  all  correspondence  between  them  must  cease. 
Poor  Mary  was  thunderstruck — for  the  letter  she  had  re- 
ceived from  George  but  a  few  weeks  prior  to  this,  had 
been  long  and  more  than  usually  affectionate;  and  he 
had  condoled  with  her  in  the  most  feeling  manner  on  the 
misfortunes  which  had  befallen  her,  telling  her  that  they 
made  no  difference  in  his  love,  and  the  conclusion  of  the 
letter  had  been  couched  in  terms  that  breathed  unaltera- 
ble and  undying  love.  Poor  girl !  deeply,  (and  none  but 
those  of  disposition  loving  and  trusting  as  hers,  who 
have  been  thus  spurned  by  the  object  of  their  love)  can 
tell  how  deeply,  she  felt  the  blow  ;  but  she  had  too  much 
maidenly  pride  to  ask  for  any  explanation,  and  since 
then  she  has  never  spoken  of  the  once  loved  object, 
nor  alluded  to  the  affection  she  felt  and  I  believe  still 
feels  for  him — for  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  saw  his  minia- 
ture fastened  around  her  neck  by  a  ribbon  one  day  when 
I  entered  the  ward  unexpectedly.  She  was  gazing  in- 
tently upon  it,  and  tears  were  in  her  eyes.  She,  how- 
ever, hastily  thrust  it  into  the  folds  of  her  dress,  and 
though  she  blushed  deeply,  she  never  spoke  a  word.  For 
some  years  past,  she  has  worked  early  and  late  with  the 
object  I  have  related  to  you,  and  some  months  ago  she 
began  to  feel  the  effects  of  this  severe  toil,  symptoms  of 
.spinal  disease  developing  themselves,  which  at  length 
grew  so  alarming,  that  she  was  compelled  to  desist  from 
her  employment,  and  at  my  earnest  request  she  came  to 
the  hospital,  where  she  could  have  more  skillful  treat- 
ment than  she  could  procure  at  home,  and  I  and  a  few 
friends,  promised  to  support  her  mother,  and  keep  her 
brother  at  school  until  she  recovered.  Fortunately  the 
disease  is  not  chronic  in  its  nature,  and  I  have  hopes  of 


STRAY  LEAVES   FKOM   MY  JOURNAL.  119 

her  complete  restoration  to  health,  when,  I  and  the  friends 
already  alluded  to,  have  concocted  a  plan  to  place  her  in 
a  business  of  her  own,  in  a  small  way,  in  the  pursuance 
of  which  she  will  not  again  be  subjected  to  a  second  at- 
tack ;  but  you  can  observe,"  added  the  doctor,  as  he  con- 
cluded his  story,  "  how  uneasy  the  poor  dear  girl  is  when 
she  thinks  of  her  mother  and  brother  being  indebted  for 
their  support  to  strangers." 

"  Poor  girl !"  I  replied,  "  I  believe  there  is  a  great  deal 
more  of  this  species  of  self-sacrifice  amongst  persons 
of  her  class  and  disposition,  than  the  world  has  any 
idea  of." 

It  was,  I  suppose,  four  years,  as  near  as  I  can  recollect, 
after  this,  before  I  heard  any  more  of  Mary  Summerville. 
I  think  it  was  in  18-16  that  my  Boston  friend  paid  a  visit 
to  New  York  and  spent  a  few  days  at  my  house.  In  the 
course  of  our  conversation  together,  I  recollected  the  in- 
teresting patient  in  the  Boston  Hospital,  and  I  inquired 
of  my  friend  concerning  her. 

"Oh!"  he  replied,  "I  have  capital  news  to  tell  you 
from  that  quarter.  Mary  Summerville  completely  re- 
covered a  few  weeks  after  you  left  Boston,  and  we  set 
her  up  in  a  small  fancy  goods  store,  where  she  got  on 
amazingly,  and  would  by  this  time,  or  in  a  few  years 
further  at  most,  have  been  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  best 
stores  of  the  kind  in  Boston  ;  but " 

"But  what?"  said  I,  interrupting  him — "surely  the 
poor  girl  is  not  dead  !" 

"No,"  he  added,  smiling,  "she  is  not  dead.  If  you 
were  a  younger  man  and  unmarried,  1  really  should 
think  you  had  fallen  in  love  with  her.  Let  me  see,  where 
did  you  interrupt  me  ?  Oh  !  she  was  getting  on,  as  I  ob- 
served, famously  in  the  fancy  goods  line,  when  one  day 
who  should  come  post-haste  into  the  store  but  George 
Milton,  and  before  Mary  had  time  to  say  a  word,  he  was 
round  the  counter  hugging  and  kissing  her  like  a  mad  fel- 
low. As  soon  as  Mary  recovered  her  first  surprise,  she  en- 
deavored to  release  herself  from  his  embraces,  and  re- 
pulsed him  pretty  coldly,  I  can  tell  you. 


120  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

"  '  George/  she  said,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  indig- 
nation, and  those  large,  soft  gray  eyes  of  her's  can  flash 
fire  sometimes — '  George  Milton,  after  your  conduct  to- 
wards me — after  the  letter  you  sent  me,  I  did  not  expect 
this  from  you.  1  did  not  think,  though  you  had  so  un- 
feelingly spurned  my  love,  that  you  could  thus  seek  to 
insult  me  in  my  present  humble  situation  in  life — 

"  '  I  insult  you !  dearest  Mary,'  said  George.  '  It  is  all 
a  mistake — a  fraud,  love.  I  never  sent  you  a  letter  repu- 
diating your  love;  but  you  sent  one  to  me!1 

"  '  I  did  not  reply  to  your  letter,  sir,'  said  Mary. 

"  '  But  I  have  your  letter  here,'  said  he,  producing  the 
well  worn  sheet  from  his  pocket-book,  and  giving  it  to 
her.  'Is  not  that  your  hand-writing  ?' 

"  '  It  certainly  resembles  it,'  said  Mary ;  '  but  I  solemnly 
declare  I  never  wrote  a  word  of  it.' 

"  '  I  don't  believe  you  did  noiv,  Mary  dear — neither  did 
I  v/rite  a  letter  to  you,  to  the  purport  you  speak  of.  Both 
letters  were  counterfeits,  and  admirable  ones  too,  of  our 
hand-writing.  My  uncle  died  about  twelve  months  ago, 
leaving  me  his  sole  heir,  and,  while  on  a  visit  to  my  fa- 
ther lately,  something  occurred  to  cause  me  to  suspect 
that  our  mutual  affections  had  been  trifled  with.  I  told 
my  father  so,  and  said  that,  at  all  hazards,  I  should  seek 
you  out,  and  learn  the  truth  from  your  own  lips.  The 
old  gentleman,  whose  resentment  at  his  loss,  has  become 
considerably  mollified,  and  who  knows,  at  all  events,  I 
am  independent  of  him,  so  far  as  fortune  goes,  seeing  my 
determination,  at  length  acknowledged  that  he  and  my 
uncle  had  managed  the  fraud  between  them,  and  had 
also  intercepted  all  our  real  letters.  He  gave  me  permis- 
sion, which  I  should  otherwise  have  taken  without  his 
leave,  to  visit  you,  and  if  I  still  found  you  true,  to  renew 
my  addresses.' 

"•  Poor  Mary  was  overpowered  with  astonishment,  joy 
and  gratitude " 

"  And  of  course  they  were  married  shortly  afterwards?" 
said  I,  again  interrupting  the  story. 

"  What  a  fellow  you  are  for  interrupting  one,"  said  my 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  121 

friend.  "  Of  course  they  were  married,  and  very  shortly 
afterwards — for  that  very  day  week,  pretty  Mary  Sum- 
merville  became  Mrs.  Milton." 

"  Are  they  still  residing  in  Boston  ?"  said  I. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  Young  Milton  took  his  bride  and 
her  mother  and  brother  to  New  Orleans,  where  his  pro- 
perty is,  to  reside." 

"  And  the  old  lady — is  she  as  querelous  as  ever  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.  With  the  return  of  fortune's  sunshine,  the 
clouds  were  banished  from  her  mind,  and  I  hear  she  is 
one  of  the  gayest  of  the  fashionables  at  New  Orleans ; 
for  she  is  still  far  from  an  old  lady,  as  you  term  her. — 
Mary  has  a  child,  as  she  wrote  me  in  her  last  letter. 
'The  sweetest  babe  the  sun  ever  shone  upon,'  and  a 
great  deal  more  to  the  same  purport,  as  young  mothers 
always  do  say,  when  they  speak  or  write  of  their  chil- 
dren. However,  if  the  child  takes  after  its  father  and 
mother,  no  doubt  it  is  a  fine  babe  enough." 

"  Well,  once  now  and  then,  amidst  the  ups  and  downs 
of  life,"  said  I,  as  my  friend  finished  his  story,  "  it  is 
quite  refreshing  to  hear  of  virtue  rewarded." 

6 


122  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

CHAPTER    X. 

THE;  FORSAKEN. 

WOULD  that  I  could  blot  from  memory  the  episode  in 
my  professional  career  which  I  am  now  about  to  relate, 
and  which  ever  brings  a  chill  to  my  heart  when  I  think 
of  it,  so  forcibly  can  I  recall  to  mind  every  sad  incident 
connected  with  it.  Agnes  Guilfoyle,  the  heroine  of  my 
narrative,  was  an  Irish  girl,  born  of  poor  parents,  who 
had  emigrated  from  Limerick  to  the  United  States  while 
Agnes  was  yet  a  child. 

Her  parents  belonged  to  the  lower  class  of  emigrants, 
and  as  is  customary  in  such  cases,  the  first  occupation 
her  father  followea,  after  landing  in  this  country,  was 
that  of  a  bricklayer's  laborer,  while  her  mother  took  in 
washing,  and  did  any  odd  job  she  could  get  to  do,  ir. 
order  to  eke  out  their  means  of  subsistence.  They  were 
both  getting  up  in  years  at  the  period  in  which  I  became 
acquainted  with  them;  and  although,  by  dint  of  industry 
and  economy,  they  were  then  pretty  well  to  do  in  the 
world,  the  same  roughness  of  habit  and  demeanor,  and 
the  same  rude  social  habits  still  clung  to  them,  which 
they  had  brought  with  them  on  their  first  arrival,  almost 
in  .the  condition  of  paupers,  in  the  United  States.  They 
were  honest,  industrious,  frugal  and  kind-hearted,  but, 
withalj  as  rough-looking  a  couple  as  ever  were  united 
together  in  the  bonds  of  wedlock.  They  had  several 
other  children  besides  Agnes,  who  more  o*r  less  re- 
sembled their  parents ;  but  she,  the  eldest  daughter,  at 
the  time  I  knew  her,  about  seventeen  years  old,  was, 
strange  to  say,  entirely  different  in  her  appearance  from 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  was  in  reality  one  of  the 
most  graceful  creatures  I  ever  saw.  It  was  scarcely  pos- 
sible to  conceive  that  she  was  the  child  of  Patrick  and 
Bridget  Guilfoyle,  and  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  suspect 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  123 

otherwise,  beyond  the  little  resemblance  she  bore  to  the 
rest  of  the  family.  She  was  tall  and  rather  slender,  but 
most  symmetrically  formed,  and  stately  in  her  walk  as 
an  Oriental  maiden. 

Her  parents  resided  at  no  great  distance  from  my 
abode,  and  I  had,  therefore,  repeated  opportunities  of 
seeing  her  when  she  passed  up  and  down  the  street, 
opposite  my  house,  and  long  before  I  knew  who  she  was, 
I  had  often  directed  the  attention  of  my  wife  to  her,  so 
struck  was  I  by  her  rare  beauty.  There  were  few  per- 
sons, indeed,  whom  she  met  in  the  street,  but  turned  to 
gaze  at  her  as  she  walked  along.  And  with  all  this  she 
appeared  utterly  unconcious  of  possessing  any  extraordi- 
nary personal  attractions.  Her  complexion  was  delicate- 
ly fair,  the  contour  of  her  face  oval,  and  her  features  of 
the  purest  Grecian  model  were  shaded  by  thick,  silky, 
heavy  masses  of  her  hair  of  that  shade  which  ancient 
poets  have  called  golden,  which  is  so  rarely  met  with, 
yet  so  beautiful — neither  brown  nor  yellow,  but  seeming 
to  change  its  color  according  to  the  light  in  which  she 
stood.  Her  eyes  were  blue,  large  and  deeply  seated  be 
neath  a  brow  of  the  purest  alabaster,  and  shaded  by  full, 
brown  eyebrows  and  silky,  dark  eyelashes,  beautiful  as 
ever  lover  penned  a  sonnet  upon.  However,  a  descrip- 
tion of  female  beauty  is  not  my  forte,  and  I  know  full 
well  that  if  I  were  to  write  pages,  I  should  fail  utterly 
in  giving  my  readers  any  adequate  idea  of  her  passing 
loveliness. 

One  morning  I  was  called  upon  by  her  father,  with  a 
request  to  visit  his  wife,  who  was  suffering  severely  from 
rheumatism,  and,  of  course,  I  called  as  requested,  having 
little  idea  that  he  was  the  parent  of  the  paragon  of 
feminine  beauty  whose  charms  I  have  feebly  attempted 
to  portray. 

Patrick  Guilfoyle  lived  in  a  neat  cottage  at  the  bottom 
of  the  street  in  which  my  house  was  situated.  From 
being  a  brick-layer's  laborer  he  had  become,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years  after  his  arrival,  a  brick-layer  him- 
self, and  still  animated  by  the  same  determination  to 


124  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

push  himself  forward  in  life,  he  had  at  length,  after 
having  saved  a  little  capital,  turned  speculator  in  bricks 
and  mortar,  and  at  this  period  was  the  owner  of  upwards 
of  a  dozen  houses  of  considerable  pretensions,  the  rents 
of  which  brought  him  a  very  comfortable  income. 

I  found  the  old  woman  in  bed,  her  face  and  arms 
bandaged  in  flannel,  and,  to  my  great  surprise,  I  found 
carefully  tending  her,  the  young  female  I  have  described. 
Her  appearance  was  so  perfectly  ladylike,  so  different 
from  any  others  of  the  family  whom  I  saw  in  the  house, 
that  my  first  impression  was  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  some  wealthy  family  in  the  neighborhood — one  of 
those  angels  of  mercy,  who  spend  their  leisure  hours  in 
visiting  and  endeavoring  to  comfort  and  assist  the  poor 
in  the  hour  of  affliction ;  and  I  actually  started  with  ill- 
suppressed  surprise  when  the  old  lady  introduced  her  to 
me  as  her  eldest  daughter ;  and  yet  I  might  have  thought 
it  strange  to  find  a  stranger  visiting  the  house  on  an 
errand  of  charity,  for  there  was  within  it,  every  appear- 
ance of  comfort  and  plenty,  and  even  of  taste,  though  I 
don't  think  my  friend  Patrick  or  his  wife  had  much  to 
do  with  the  arrangement.  It,  I  imagine,  was  due  to  the 
daughter. 

I  attended  the  old  lady  regularly  for  some  weeks, 
until,  as  the  weather  grew  warmer,  she  became  perfectly 
restored  to  health.  Meanwhile  I  had  become  quite  inti- 
mate with  the  daughter,  and  was  so  pleased  with  her 
intelligence  and  modest,  lady-like  demeanor,  that  I  intro- 
duced my  wife  to  her,  and  she  became  a  frequent  visitor 
at  my  house,  for  though  my  wife  saw  that  I  admired  the 
young  lady  so  much,  I  assure  the  reader  she  was  not  at 
all  jealous,  [Susanna  has  not  a  particle  of  jealousy  in  her 
disposition,]  and  to  tell  the  plain  truth  she  was  more 
enthusiastic  in  her  praise  than  I. 

Some  months  subsequently  to  the  events  I  have  re- 
lated, I  noticed  a  young  gentleman, -generally  attired  in 
a  naval  uniform,  frequently  passing  my  house,  and  I 
soon  learned  from  my  wife  that  he  visited  the  Gruilfoyles, 
and  was  the  accepted  lover  of  Agnes.  He  was  the  bro- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  125 

ther  of  one  of  her  schoolfellows,  and  it  was  through  his 
sister  he  had  first  fallen  in  with  Agnes.  The  old  couple 
were  justly  proud  of  the  beauty  and  amiability  of  their 
eldest  daughter,  and  had  caused  her  to  be  educated  at  a 
school  frequented  by  young  ladies  of  much  higher  paren- 
tage than  herself;  and  in  fact  the  only  objection  I  saw  to 
the  match  was  the  difference  in  the  position  in  life  of  the 
young  couple.  Edward  T.  was  the  son  of  a  Southern 
planter  of  great  wealth,  and  was  at  this  time  a  lieutenant 
in  the  United  States  navy.  He  had  first  seen  Agnes 
when  on  a  visit  to  his  sister  at  school,  about  a  twelve- 
month previously,  and  new  the  frigate  to  which  he  be- 
longed was  undergoing  repair  in  the  Brooklyn  Navy 
Yard.  Agnes  introduced  him  to  my  wife  and  I,  and  we 
were  much  pleased  with  his  apparently  gentlemanly 
manners  and  the  respect  and  affection  he  seemed  to  en- 
tertain towards  the  fair  young  girl.  He  was  a  fine, 
manly  looking  fellow,  and  my  wife  often  remarked  to 
me,  what  a  handsome  married  couple  they  would  make. 

About  three  months  after  this,  the  young  lieutenant 
sailed  for  the  Mediterranean,  and,  I  understood  from  my 
wife,  whom  Agnes  made  her  confidant,  that  a  regular 
correspondence  was  kept  up  between  the  youthful  pair, 
the  letters  of  the  young  man  breathing  the  strongest  ex- 
pressions of  love  and  constancy.  The  vessel  had  been 
two  years  absent  on  her  cruise,  when,  greatly  to  the  dis- 
tress of  Agnes,  the  letters  from  her  lover  became  more 
brief  and  less  frequent ;  still  they  continued  to  contain 
the  same  sentiments  of  undying  affection  they  ever  had 
displayed,  and  it  had  been  arranged  that  on  his  return 
he  was  to  quit  the  service,  make  Agnes  his  wife,  and 
retire  to  his  father's  large  estates  in  the  south. 

One  morning  Agnes  visited  our  house,  and  she  had 
not  been  long  seated  in  the  parlor  before  my  wife  saw 
that  she  was  low  spirited  and  nervous,  and  evidently 
not  in  her  usual  happy  frame  of  mind.  At  length  she 
said: 

"What  ails  you  this  morning,  dear  Agnes?  Have 
you  heard  any  bad  news  ?  You  look  quite  dispirited." 


126  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

The  poor  girl  burst  into  tears,  and  for  some  time  she 
did  not  speak.  At  length  she  handed  my  wife  a  news- 
paper, pointing  at  the  same  time  to  the  column  of  "  na- 
val intelligence." 

My  wife  took  the  paper  and  saw  mentioned  the  arrival 

of  the frigate  at  Norfolk,  four  days  before,  with  a 

list  of  the  officers  on  board,  among  whose  names  was 
that  of  Lieutenant  S . 

"  He  has  not  written  to  me,"  said  poor  Agnes,  sobbing, 
"to  inform  me  of  his  arrival;  nor  in  his  last  letter,  dated 
from  Toulon,  only  two  months  ago,  did  he  make  any 
mention  of  the  vessel  being  about  to  return  home,  al- 
though he  must  have  known  of  it.  His  letter,  too,  was 
brief,  as  they  have  all  been  of  late,  and  though  they  con- 
tain the  same  words  of  kindness  and  affection,  there  is 
something  in  the  style — something  I  cannot  describe — 
which  tells  me  Edward  does  not  feel  the  love  for  me  now 
that  he  once  did." 

My  wife  sought  to  comfort  and  encourage  the  poor 
girl,  although  she  felt  a  misgiving  at  her  heart  that  all 
was  not  right ;  but  for  some  time  her  efforts  were  in 
vain. 

"He  cannot  love  me  as  he  did,"  she  said,  "or  he 
would  have  written  to  me,  or  come  on  ere  this  to  New 
York.  Could  /  have  been  silent  had  I  been  absent  so 
long  from  him,  and  at  length  had  again  arrived  at  home  ? 
Never.  Nor  could  he  unless  his  feelings  were  changed 
towards  me.  I  feel  it  is  so ;  for  months  past,  I  have  felt 
a  foreboding  of  this,  though  I  sought  to  strive  against  it 
and  to  persuade  myself  that  I  was  foolishly  anxious." 

"  Perhaps,"  says  my  wife,  anxious  to  bestow  some 
words  of  comfort,  although  she  had  the  same  fears  as  the 
poor  girl  herself;  "  perhaps  Edward  intends  to  surprise 
you  with  a  visit,  not  thinking  that  you  would  hear  of  the 
vessel's  arrival.  If  I  were  you  I  would  write  to  him,  at 
Norfolk,  and  let  him  know  how  cleverly  you  have  found 
him  out." 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  could  not  think  that ;  he  knows  well,  for 
often,  often  have  I  told  him,  that  I  read  the  naval  intel- 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  127 

gence  every  day.  I  have  done  so  every  day  since  he 
as  been  gone  away.  He  must  have  known  how  anx- 
ously  I  should  watch  the  announcement  of  the  return 
of  his  frigate." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  would  write,  love,"  said  my  wife ;  and 
at  length  she  persuaded  the  poor  girl  to  do  so. 

Agnes  wrote  to  her  lover  on  the  following  day,  but  a 
fortnight  passed  away  without  reply,  and  the  poor  young 
lady  already  begun  to  show  symptoms  of  the  dreadful 
admixture  of  hope,  doubt,  and  despair,  that  was  preying 
upon  her  mind,  while  the  honest  old  couple,  her  father 
and  mother,  were  bitter  in  their  denunciations  of  her 
faithless  lover.  It  would  have  fared  ill  with  him,  had 
honest  old  Patrick,  or  his  son  Andy,  who  was  now  a 
stout  lad  of  eighteen,  come  into  contact  with  him.  In- 
deed the  old  man  talked  of  going  to  Norfolk  and  con- 
fronting him,  and  would  have  done  so,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  earnest  dissuasions  of  Agnes  herself. 

At  the  termination  of  a  fortnight,  a  letter  arrived,  and 
Agnes  immediately  brought  it  round  to  my  wife.  Poor 
girl !  she  had  long  expected  it,  and  now  she  had  obtained 
it  she  dared  not  open  it.  She  had  sighed  to  know  the 
worst ;  she  had  schooled  her  mind,  as  she  thought,  to 
hear  and  bear  it ;.  but  now  she  was  unequal  to  the  task. 
She  held  the  letter  in  her  grasp,  while  her  fingers  passed 
nervously  over  it,  as  though  eager,  but  fearful  to  break 
the  seal,  and  she  caught  her  breath  painfully.  At  length 
she  said : 

"I  cannot,  dare  not  open  the  letter;  do  so  for  me, 
Mrs. ,"  handing  it  to  my  wife,  while  she  leant  for- 
ward and  pressed  her  hands  to  her  forehead.  My  wife 
opened  the  letter  as  desired,  and  said : — 

"  Shall  I  read  it,  Agnes?" 

"  No,  no — don't  read  it;  now  the  seal  is  broken,  give 
it  to  me,  I  feel  better  now,  I  will  read  it  myself;  "per- 
haps," she  added,  smiling  a  sickly,  painful  smile,  "it  may 
contain  good  news  after  all.  I  may  have  been  wrong  in 
tnus  casting  blame  on  poor  dear  Edward." 

She  read  the  letter  without  uttering  a  word,  while  my 


128  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

wife  was  intently  watching  her  countenance.  It  turned 
ashy  pale,  and  she  bit  her  lips  till  the  blood  sprung  from 
them.  Thqn  she  let  fall  her  hands  into  her  lap,  still 
holding  the  letter,  and  said  in  a  whisper  that  was  fearful 
and  harrowing  to  listen  to  : — 

"  It  is  as  I  feared.     Edward  has  forsaken  me." 

Her  features  assumed  a  despairing  rigidity  of  expres- 
sion that  seriously  alarmed  my  wife.  She  spoke  to  her, 
but  received  no  reply ;  the  eyes  of  the  poor  girl  were 
fixed  on  vacancy. 

"Agnes,"  said  my  wife,  "speak,  dear.  What  is  the 
matter  ;  do  you  not  know  me  ?  '  for  the  unhappy  young 
woman  gazed  fixedly  at  her,  as  though  she  was  a  stranger; 
but  still  did  not  speak.  My  wife  tried  to  take  the  letter 
from  her ;  but  it  was  held  too  tightly  in  her  grasp,  and 
she  felt  that  her  fingers  were  cold  and  stiff,  as  though  she 
had  been  struck  with  death. 

She  became  alarmed,  and  summoned  assistance,  and 
after  some  time  the  poor  afflicted  girl  recovered  her  senses 
and  found  vent  to  her  sufferings  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

She  gave  the  letter  to  my  wife  to  read.  It  stated  briefly 
that  his  (Edward's)  father  had  heard  that  he  was  affianced 
to  her,  and  that  he  had  positively  commanded  him  to 
break  off  the  engagement — but  this,  until  now,  he  had 
not  the  heart  to  do ;  that  it  was  his  father's  wish  that  he 
should  marry  a  lady  whose  parents  resided  in  his  neigh- 
borhood, and  who  was  the  daughter  of  a  brother  planter, 
also  of  great  wealth ;  that  he  was  entirely  dependent  on 
his  father,  who  had  threatened  him  with  disinheritance 
should  he  presume  to  disobey  him ;  and  he  concluded  by 
desiring  Agnes  to  forgive  and  to  forget  him. 

From  this  time  Agnes  began  to  show  symptoms  of  in- 
sanity ;  her  organization  was  extremely  delicate,  and  the 
shock  was  too  much  for  her  to  bear.  She  had  loved  Ed- 
ward S.  with  her  whole  heart,  and  that  faithful  heart  his 
cruelty  had  well  nigh  broken. 

Her  only  solace  was  to  search  every  Southern  paper 
she  could  obtain,  in  order  to  see  if  there  was  any  announce- 
ment of  the  marriage  of  her  faithless  lover ;  and  though 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  129 

at  first  her  parents  kept  them  from  her  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, it  was  at  length  found  necessary  to  let  her  have  her 
own  way.  When  they  were  withheld  she  sometimes  fell 
into  hysteric  fits,  in  which  she  raved  fearfully. 

At  length  the  news  we  dreaded  arrived.  She  read  of 
the  marriage  of  Edward  to  the  lady  he  had  spoken  of. 
The  paper  dropped  from  her  hands,  and  muttering,  "It 
has  come  at  last  /"  she  gave  a  piercing  shriek  and  fell  back 
insensible  on  the  sofa.  In  this  condition  she  remained 
for  hours,  and  was  only  brought  to  consciousness  a  harm- 
less but  confirmed  lunatic. 

She  was  happier — poor  child ! — than  if  she  had  retained 
her  senses  ;  for  she  was  ever  fancying  that  to-morrow — 
yes,  to-morrow  ! — would  bring  her  Edward  back  to  her, 
and  then  she  was  to  be  married.  Alas  !  many  who  are 
not,  as  she  was,  suffering  under  the  most  dreadful  disease 
that  can  afflict  humanity,  dream,  too,  happy  dreams  of 
to-morrow,  that  are  never  to  be  realized. 

It  was,  after  some  weeks,  determined  to  send  her  to  a 
lunatic  asylum  in  New  England,  where  many  cures  had 
been  effected,  and  I  and  her  mother  accompanied  her. 
Her  father,  poor  old  man !  was  so  stricken  with  the 
weight  of  the  affliction  that  had  befallen  him,  that  he 
was  rendered  completely  helpless. 

We  reached  the  place,  and  saw  the  poor  girl  comforta- 
bly situated,  and  her  mother  and  I  remained  a  few  days 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  visited  her  daily. 

On  one  of  these  visits  I  met  three  gentlemen  who  were 
being  shown  over  the  asylum.  I  thought  the  appearance 
of  one  was  familiar  to  me,  but  his  back  was  towards  me 
and  I  could  not  see  his  features.  The  party  preceded  me 
to  the  department  where  Agnes  was  confined,  and  we  all 
four  entered  the  room  together.  Agnes  was  sitting  on 
a  sofa,  in  the  melancholy  mood  that  her  disorder  had  as- 
sumed. She  raised  her  head  as  she  heard  our  footsteps, 
and,  to  my  surprise,  started  up  and  sprang  towards  one 
of  the  gentlemen,  saying,  in  tones  of  joy — 

"  My  Edward  has  come  at  last — it  is  to-morrow — Dear 
Edward,  how  could  you  remain  so  long  absent?" 


130  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

I  recognized  Edward  S.  in  the  young  man  about  whose 
neck  she  had  thrown  her  arms,  and  the  terrified  expres- 
sion of  his  face  I  shall  never  forget. 

"  Dear  Edward — dear  Edward"  murmured  the  poor 
girl,  while  he  remained  statue-like,  making  no  effort  to 
disengage  himself  from  her  embrace,  and  the  friends 
who  were  with  him  stood  petrified  with  astonishment. 
At  length  recollection  seemed  to  return  to  Agnes ;  her 
features,  pale  and  wan  as  she  was,  assumed  their  former 
appearance.  She  looked  earnestly  at  her  false  lover,  and 
then  said,  in  tones  of  agony,  which  pierced  the  hearts 
of  all  present,  while  at  the  same  time  she  disengaged  her 
arms  from  his  neck — 

"  /  recollect  it  all  no  w.  1  have  been  mad — mad.  Edioard, 

you  have  forsaken  me.  Doctor ,"  turning  to  me,  "  where 

am  I?  My  brain  reels.  Oh  God!  forgive  him  and  meT 
and  she  fell  to  the  floor  a  corpse,  at  the  feet  of  him  who 
had  won  her  love,  abandoned  her,  driven  her  crazy,  and 
at  length  broken  her  heart. 

He  still  stood  statue-like,  gazing  upon  the  dead  form 
of  the  beautiful  girl — beautiful  even  in  death.  Fortu- 
nately, the  mother  of  the  unhappy  girl  was  not  present 
to  witness  the  harrowing  spectacle. 

I  turned  to  the  young  man  and  could  not  refrain  from 
saying,  as  I  pointed  to  the  beautiful  creature  whose  hap- 
piness he  had  wrecked  and  whose  brittle  thread  of  life 
he  had  broken : 

"  Edward  S ,  behold  your  work  1  Go,  join  your 

newly  wedded  bride  ;  but  can  you  ever  know  happiness 
again?" 

Proper  attention  was  paid  to  the  corpse,  and  the  body 
was  conveyed  home  by  her  heart-broken  mother  and 
buried  in  New  York. 

Edward  S was  removed  by  his  friends,  still  in  a 

state  of  unconsciousness,  and  for  some  weeks  he  was  in 
a  raging  fever,  from  which  it  was  thought  he  would  not 
recover.  He  had,  I  learnt  subsequently,  brought  his 
wife  to  New  England  on  a  bridal  tour,  little  thinking 
what  he  was  fated  to  witness.  He  recovered  eventually, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  131 

but  was  never  perfectly  himself  again.  The  figure  of  the 
poor  young  girl  whom  he  had  so  shamefully  betrayed, 
haunted  his  imagination.  His  wife,  who  thus  became 
acquainted  with  his  perfidy,  instinctively  shrunk  from 
him,  and  at  length  he  again  went  to  sea.  One  night, 
while  the  frigate  he  belonged  to  was  lying  at  anchor  in 
Gibraltar  roads,  he  came  up  from  his  cabin,  and  before 
any  one  was  able  to  stop  him,  sprang  overboard  and  was 
drowned.  The  boats  were  lowered,  but  nothing  was 
ever  seen  or  heard  of  the  body.  The  betrayer  had  been 
lured  to  destruction  by  his  guilty  imagination,  which  ever 
pictured  the  image  of  her  he  had  loved  and  deceived,  ap- 
pearing before  him,  upbraiding  his  treachery,  and  at 
length  he,  as  well  as  she  whose  heart  he  had  broken,  per- 
shed  in  a  condition  of  insanity. 


132  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

CHAPTEE   XI. 

THE    SOMNAMBULIST. 

GETTING  into  my  carriage  one  morning  to  go  through 
my  regular  routine  of  morning  calls,  the  post-man  who 
had  just  stopped  at  the  door,  seeing  and  recognizing  me, 
put  a  note  into  my  hands.  It  was  a  delicate  epistle, 
bearing  the  New  York  post-mark,  and  directed  in  a  neat 
handwriting.  I  opened  it.  and  read  as  follows : 

"Will  Doctor be  so  kind  as  to  call  at  No. , 

Murray-street,  in  the  course  of  the  day.   I  should  esteem 
it  as  a  favor  if  he  were  to  call  as  early  as  possible." 

There  was  no  signature  to  the  note ;  but  that  was  no 
great  matter  as  it  was  sufficiently  explicit  of  itself.  Some 
hypochondriac  lady  patient  desires  to  see  me,  no  doubt, 
thought  I;  well,  I  will  call  as  I  return  home,  for  really 
I  had  so  much  business  on  hand  at  this  time,  although 
the  season  was  not  particularly  unhealthy,  that  I  had 
little  time  to  spare  and  no  time  to  waste,  to  the  prejudice 
of  my  other  patients,  on  one  who  had  given  no  further 
details  regarding  the  nature  of  her  business  with  me 
than  those  recorded  in  the  letter.  I  accordingly  called 
at  the  house  designated,  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon. 
It  was  a  handsome  dwelling,  and  everything  about  it 
showed  indications  of  comfort  and  competence,  if  not  of 
wealth.  I  was  shown  into  the  parlor  by  a  servant  girl 

who  appeared  to  have  been  expecting  me.    "Dr. ?" 

she  said  upon  opening  the  front  door ;  and  on  my  reply- 
ing in  the  affirmative,  she  showed  me  into  a  handsomely 
furnished  parlor,  begging  me  to  be  seated,  and  her  mis- 
tress would  be  down  stairs  directly.  I  had  to  wait  a  few 
minutes,  and  amused  myself  by  looking  at  the  pictures 
on  the  walls.  Over  the  mantel-piece  was  a  half-length 
portrait  of  a  gentleman,  whose  bronzed,  weather-beaten 
countenance  showed  him  to  be  a  sailor,  even  had  there 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  13S 

not  been  corroborating  proof  in  the  fact  that  he  was  re 
presented  with  a  spy-glass  under  his  arm,  while  in  the 
background  were  seen  the  ropes,  shrouds,  and  rigging 
of  a  ship.  Although  weather-beaten,  the  features  were 
regular,  and  the  general  aspect  was  gentlemanly.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was  the  portrait  of  a  lady, 
somewhat  pale,  but  nevertheless  of  considerable  personal 
attractions,  and  on  the  mantel-shelf  was  a  collection  of 
foreign  stuffed  birds,  in  glass  cases,  curious  pieces  of 
coral  and  petrified  sea  weed,  and  other  matters  sufficient- 
ly indicative  that  the  house  was  the  residence  of  a  sea- 
faring gentleman.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  lady  of  the 
house  came  down,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing 
in  her  the  original  of  the  female  portrait,  although  it 
must  have  been  taken  some  ten  or  perhaps  fifteen  years 
previous.  Still  there  was  little  alteration,  and  if  time 
had  touched  the  features  with  his  withering  hand,  he 
had  touched  them  but  lightly,  and  left  few  traces  behind. 
The  lady  was  attired  in  black,  and  from  her  general  ap- 
pearance, I  at  once  decided  that  she  was  a  widow.  She 
was  the  first  to  speak,  for  on  entering  the  room,  she  im- 
mediately apologized  for  having  kept  me  waiting,  and 
then  added: 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  you  are  the  family  physican 
of  Mr.  B.  in  this  street?" 
I  replied  that  I  was. 

"  I  sent  you  a  note  this  morning,  doctor,"  she  resumed, 
"  begging  you  to  call  during  the  day.  I  did  not  sign  it, 
because  I  knew  you  would  be  ignorant  of  the  name.  I 
thank  you,  however,  for  your  promptitude  in  attendance. 

I  am  the  widow  of  Captain  S ,  of  the  packet-ship 

L ,  which  you  may  perhaps  call  to  mind,  was  lost 

with  all  on  board  about  three  years  ago  on  her  passage 
home  from  Liverpool.  It  is  not,  however,  of  myself  that 
I  wish  to  speak  about.  I  have  a  son  who  is  first  officer 
of  a  packet-ship  trading  between  this  port  and  Havre  de 
Grace,  and  a  daughter  now  about  sixteen  years  of  age 
who  has  lately  returned  home  from  a  boarding-school  iu 
Baltimore,  where  she  has  been  educated.  Since  she  has 


134  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

been  home,  which  has  only  been  for  a  few  weeks,  sht 
has  been  afflicted  with  some  singular  symptoms,  which, 
although  perhaps  they  may  not  call  for  medical  treat- 
ment, occasion  me  no  little  uneasiness.  Without  any 
appearance  of  ill  health,  she  always  seems  fatigued  and 
has  no  appetite  whatever,  besides  which  she  has  a  con- 
tinual inclination  to  sleep.  I  wish  you  to  see  her  and 
give  me  your  opinion  upon  her  case,  without  her  being 
aware  that  you  are  a  medical  man,  for  she  is  extremely 
sensitive,  and  has  repeatedly  refused  to  have  medical 
advice,  asserting  that  there  is  nothing  the  matter  with 
her.  If,  doctor,  you  would  call  to-morrow  evening  when 
I  shall  have  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  and  a  few  friends  here,  I 
should  esteem  it  as  a  favor." 

I  readily  promised  to  do  this,  and  wishing  the  lady  a 
good  evening,  I  left  the  house,  calling  on  my  way  towards 
Broadway,  at  the  residence  of  an  old  friend — Mr.  B.  in 
the  same  street — the  same  gentleman  whose  name  had 
been  mentioned  by  the  widow. 

I  called  purposely,  in  order  to  make  a  few  inquiries 
respecting  ner.  Mr.  B.  informed  me  that  she  was  the 
widow  of  a  gentleman  who  had  been  for  many  years 
captain  and  part  owner  of  one  of  the  finest  packet-ships 
that  sailed  from  New  York,  and  that  she  had  been  left 
by  her  husband,  who  had  been  unfortunately  lost  at  sea 
in  a  hurricane,  in  quite  easy  circumstances ;  he  spoke 
highly  of  her  as  a  most  estimable  lady,  and  said  that  she 
had  but  two  children,  a  son,  a  fine  young  man,  then  at 
sea,  and  a  daughter,  a  very  pretty  girl,  but  who  enjoyed 
but  poor  health.  Being  perfectly  satisfied  as  to  the  re- 
spectability of  the  parties,  and  having  mentioned  the 
cause  of  my  inquiries,  and  learnt  that  he  had  been  in- 
vited to  spend  the  following  evening  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
S.,  I  took  my  leave. 

The  next  day,  according  to  appointment,  I  made  a 
disguised  professional  visit  to  my  youthful  patient,  and 
was  ushered  by  Mrs.  S.  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
some  half-dozen  gentlemen  and  ladies,  with  moat  of 
whom  I  was  acquainted,  were  listening  to  Miss  S.,  as  she 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  135 

sat  playing  upon  the  piano-forte.  After  a  while  she 
ceased  playing,  and  I  managed  to  get  into  conversation 
with  her.  I  could  observe  no  appearance  of  ill-health, 
save  certain  symptoms  of  fatigue,  such  as  might  have 
followed  a  day's  unwonted  exercise,  and  which  I  was 
utterly  unable  to  account  for.  In  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, which  I  purposely  led  to  this  subject,  I  remarked 
that  she  seemed  fatigued. 

"Yes,"  she  replied;  "  I  am  as  tired  as  I  used  to  be  at 
school,  after  a  whole  day's  scrambling  over  the  hills  and 
amidst  the  fields  in  search  of  botanical  specimens.  It  has 
become  habitual  to  me  and  I  cannot  account  for  it ;  nei- 
ther, although  I  used  to  have  an  excellent  appetite,  can 
I  enjoy  a  single  meal,  and  yet  I  cannot  say  that  I  feel 
positively  unwell.  Mamma  is  quite  uneasy  about  it,  and 
wishes  me  to  have  medical  advice ;  but  that  would  be 
folly,  for  really  I  could  not  tell  the  doctor  of  any  serious 
symptom  were  he  to  come." 

I  thought  the  opportunity  favorable,  and  intimated 
that  I  was  a  physician. 

"  So  I  imagined,"  she  replied ;  "  for  I  heard  you  intro- 
duced as  Dr. ;  besides,  I  have  heard  Mrs.  B.  speak 

of  you." 

"  Well,  then,  allow  me  to  attend  as  a  friend  unprofes- 
sionally,  if  you  have  an  objection  to  consider  yourself 
fairly  under  a  doctor's  hands,"  said  I. 

"  Really,"  replied  Miss  S.,  ''I  have  nothing  to  tell  you, 
doctor;  there,  feel  my  pulse,"  said  she,  extending  her 
hand;  "it's  as  regular  as  clockwork,  is  it  not?  I  feel, 
doctor,  as  if  I  were  always  excessively  tired,  and  that 
with  downright  hard  exercise ;  and  yet,  in  consequence 
of  this  very  feeling,  I  never  take  any  exercise,  and  when 
I  rise  in  the  morning,  and  come  down  to  take  my  place 
at  the  breakfast  table,  I  have  no  appetite  ;  but  I  feel  no 
nausea,  but  rather  as  though  I  had  just  arisen  from  par- 
taking of  a  hearty  meal ;  now,  doctor",  you  know  as  much 
as  I  do  myself  of  my  singular  malady,  if  such  it  can  be 
called. 

I  must  confess  that  the  case  was  one  that  baffled  me, 


136  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

for  there  were  no  symptoms  of  attenuation  about  the 
young  lady.  In  fact  she  appeared  exactly  as  she  had 
described  herself,  tired  and  her  appetite  sa,tiated,  but 
both  in  a  healthful  manner. 

From  this  time  forward  I  called  occasionally  at  the 
residence  of  Mrs.  S.,  and  prescribed  such  invigorating 
medicines  as  I  thought  might  prove  beneficial,  but  with- 
out producing  the  slightest  effect. 

I  had  not  long  become  acquainted  with  the  family, 
before  I  discovered  (physicians  have  various  ways  of 
discovering  this  secret)  that  Miss  S.,  whose  Christian 
name,  by  the  way,  was  Emily,  was  in  the  habit  of  re- 
ceiving the  calls  of  a  young  gentleman  named  Douglass, 
who  was  paying  his  addresses  to  her;  Mr.  Douglass  was 
a  young  man  of  prepossessing  appearance,  I  should  say 
about  twenty-eight  or  thirty  years  of  age  perhaps,  and 
by  profession  a  lawyer;  but  he  was  in  the  receipt  of  a 
comfortable  income  derived  from  the  rent  of  some  houses 
in  one  of  the  then  most  fashionable  streets  of  the  city, 
and  he  followed  the  legal  profession  more  as  an  amuse- 
ment, and  for  the  sake  of  a  profession,  than  for  the  pur 
pose  of  obtaining  a  livelihood.  In  a  word,  from  all  that 
I  saw  and  heard  of  the  young  man,  I  judged  that  he 
would  make  a  most  eligible  husband  for  Miss  S.  Emily 
had  other  suitors,  for  she  was  both  a  pretty  and  an  ac- 
complished girl,  but  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Douglass 
was  the  favored  one. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  S.,  the  son  of  the  widow,  had  returned 
from  sea.  I  was  particularly  pleased  with  the  young 
man,  for  with  the  frank  urbanity  of  the  seaman,  he  pos- 
sessed the  manners  of  a  finished  gentleman,  as  he  had 
not  gone  to  sea  so  young  in  years  as  is  usually  the  case 
with  lads  destined  to  that  profession,  and  his  father  had 
taken  care  that  he  should  have  a  thorough  education, 
under  the  best  masters.  The  only  fault  I  could  possibly 
discover,  was  that  he  might  perhaps  be  considered  rather 
too  hasty  in  temper ;  but  like  most  impulsive  people,  he 
was  generous  and  affectionate,  and  he  was  devotedly 
fond  of  his  mother  and  sister.  He,  I  learned,  was  paying 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  137 

his  addresses  to  the  daughter  of  his  mother's  near  neigh- 
bor, and  my  friend,  Mr.  B. 

Young  S was  longer  at  home  than  usual,  for  the 

vessel  on  board  of  which  he  was  chief  officer,  was  being 
thoroughly  overhauled  and  recoppered  and  generally 
refitted,  and  while  at  home,  I  with  my  wife,  spent  seve 
ral  evenings  at  the  house.  One  evening  we  were  speak 
ing  of  the  vast  quantity  of  olives  consumed  by  the  pea 
santry  in  the  southern  provinces  of  France,  when  S- — - 
turned  to  me  and  said : 

"  Do  you  like  the  olives  now  on  the  table,  Doctor  ?" 

"  I  think  them  remarkably  fine,"  I  replied. 

"  Then  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  a  bottle.  I  brought 
them  home  with  me  from  Havre,  and  I  think  they  are 
the  finest  I  ever  tasted." 

So  saying,  he  left  the  room  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  returned  with  a  bottle  in  his  hand,  which  he 
presented  to  me.  He  then  turned  to  Mrs.  S.  and  said : 

"Mother,  I  wish  you  would  tell  Martha  when  she 
uses  any  olives,  to  take  them  from  one  bottle  until  it  is 
empty.  There  are  nine  bottles  in  the  cupboard,  and 
every  one  of  them  opened,  and  a  portion  of  the  contents 

withdrawn  ;  that  bottle  which  I  have  given  to  Dr. , 

is  the  only  one  on  which  the  seal'is  unbroken.  I  would 
nQt  care  ;  but  the  air  will  get  in  and  destroy  the  fruit." 

"  My  dear  Edward,"  said  Mrs.  S.,  "  you  gave  me  these 
bottles  when  you  first  came  home,  and  two  of  them  are 
yet  untouched  in  the  kitchen  cupboard ;  no  one  that  I 
am  aware  has  touched  the  olives  in  your  room  but 
yourself." 

"It  is  very  evident  some  one  has  though,"  said  the 
young  man  ;  "  you  can  satisfy  yourself  by  ocular  de- 
monstration ;  and  I  am  sure  I  have  not  touched  them." 

"  It  must  be  Martha  or  Bridget,"  said  Mrs.  S.,  "  and 
that  reminds  me  that  I  have  missed  a  great  quantity  of 
eatables,  such  as  cake,  jelly,  &c.,  for  a  long  time  past.  I 
did  not  care  to  speak  of  it ;  for  both  the  girls  have  been 

so  long  in  the  family  ;  but  if  Dr.   and  Mrs.  will 

excuse  me,  we  will  at  once  set  the  matter  at  rest." 


L38  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

So  saying,  she  sent  for  the  servant  girls. 

"  Martha  and  Bridget,"  she  said,  when  they  made 
their  appearance,  "  Mr.  Edward  says  that  several  bottles 
of  olives  that  are  in  his  sitting-room  up-stairs  have  beer 
opened  ;  which  of  you  has  taken  such  a  liberty  ?" 

Both  the  girls  strongly  protested  their  innocence,  and 
as  nothing  could  be  proved  against  them,  they  were  sent 
down  stairs.  So  the  matter  rested ;  but  suspicion  having 
been  aroused,  it  was  astonishing  what  a  quantity  of 
things  were  now  missed  nightly,  which  had  never  been 
thought  of  before.  I  learnt  all  through  my  wife,  who 
was  now  the  confidant  of  Mrs.  S.,  and  who  was  naturally 
curious,  as  all  women  are,  in  domestic  matters.  Not 
only  were  jellies  and  cakes  and  such  like  dainties  found 
wanting  or  deficient ;  but  the  depredations  appeared  to 
extend  to  the  most  singular  articles.  Bread,  cheese, 
butter,  sugar,  soap,  meat;  all  these  articles  were  missing, 
at  one  time  or  another,  and  naturally  enough,  quarrels 
and  bickerings  ensued  with  the  servants,  where  hereto- 
fore all  had  been  harmony.  Mrs.  S.  did  not  like  to  part 
with  the  girls,  for  they  were  the  daughters  of  an  old 
steward  of  her  deceased  husband,  and  he  had  promised 
the  old  man  on  his  death-bed  that  his  girls  should  always 
have  a  home  in  his  house;  but  what  to  do  to  stay  this 
wastefulness? — that  was  the  question. 

Young  S.  kept  watch  ;  but  on  such  nights  nothing  was 
disturbed,  and  the  young  man  soon  got  weary  of  the 
duty. 

At  length  the  servant  girls,  at  their  own  request,  were 
locked  in  their  rooms  at  night  and  the  house  having 
been  thoroughly  searched,  a  watchman  was  appointed  to 
take  especial  care  that  no  one  entered  from  without ; 
and  still,  though  Mrs.  S.  kept  the  key  of  the  servants' 
room  herself,  locking  them  in  at  night  and  letting  them 
out  in  the  morning,  the  devastation  seemed  rather  to 
increase  than  otherwise.  Mrs.  S.  grew  alarmed.  She 
began  to  believe  the  house  haunted,  and  all  was  mistrust 
and  confusion. 

Douglass  and  the  young  sailor  were  great  friends,  and 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  139 

to  the  former,  young  S.,  one  day  confided  the  details  of 
the  im-stery,  that  enveloped  the  dwelling  of  his  mother. 

"  Well,  S."  said  Douglass,  "  since  it  appears  that  it  is 
known  when  you  determine  to  watch  for  these  depreda- 
tors, suppose,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  that  I  take 
upon  myself  the  office  of  watchman,  of  course  keeping 
the  whole  affair  secret  from  any  one  in  the  house. 
What  say  you  ?" 

"Agreed,"  replied  S.,  "  and  be  the  nocturnal  visitants 
material  or  ghostly,  I  wish  you  better  luck  than  befel  me 
when  engaged  in  the  like  duty." 

Accordingly,  the  following  evening,  unknown  to  any 
one  but  Edward  S.,  Douglass  was  admitted  into  the 
house  about  11  o'clock,  and  refusing  to  allow  his  friend 
to  remain  up  with  him,  he  seated  himself  in  the  kitchen, 
by  the  stove,  lit  a  segar,  and  patiently  awaited  the  event. 

The  clock  struck  one,  and  awoke  Douglass  from  a 
partial  dose,  and  as  he  sat  up  stretching  himself  and 
rubbing  his  eyes,  he  was  startled  by  hearing  a  light  step 
upon  the  staircase  ;  he  had  no  candle  lighted,  but  he  im- 
mediately secreted  himself  in  the  shadow  of  the  stove 
and  awaited  the  result. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  steps,  and  he  heard  the 
rustle  of  female  garments,  and  in  a  few  moments  a 
slender  figure,  attired  in  her  night-clothes,  over  which 
were  thrown  a  heavy  cloa&,  entered  the  kitchen.  Who 
was  the  visitant,  he  was  not  able  to  discover,  for  she 
wore  a  bonnet  on  her  head,  and  a  thick,  heavy  veil  con- 
cealed her  features,  as  did  the  cloak  her  shape.  He  had 
little  doubt,  however,  that  it  was  one  of  the  servant 
girls.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  watch  her  proceed- 
ings without  giving  any  alarm,  and  report  in  the  morn- 
ing all  that  had  occurred.  Greatly  to  his  astonishment, 
the  strange,  nocturnal  visitant  lighted  a  candle,  and  pro- 
ceeding to  the  cupboard,  took  a  bunch  of  keys  from  her 
pocket,  unlocked  the  door,  withdrew  a  large  quantity  of 
provisions,  and  carefully  proceeded  up  stairs  with  the 
booty.  Douglass  watched  her  into  the  first  landing,  and 
then  satisfied  that  he  had  discovered  the  cause  of  the 


140  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

mysterious  disappearance  of  the  viands,  endeavored  to 
make  himself  comfortable  for  the  remainder  of  tht 
night. 

Hardly,  however,  had  he  composed  himself  in  his  easy 
chair,  before  he  heard  the  same  light  step  cautiously  de- 
scending the  stairs,  looking  carefully  around  to  see,  ap- 
parently, that  she  was  not  watched,  and  this  time  more 
fully  dressed.  She  went  out  into  the  garden  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  entered  into  a  room  over  the  stable,  where 
slept  a  sort  of  groom,  coachman,  gardener,  and  in  fact 
general  servant  of  the  family — a  smart,  good-looking, 
and  exceedingly  intelligent  fellow,  who  was  very  fond  of 
his  young  mistress,  Miss  Emily.  Here  she  remained 
perhaps  half  an  hour,  when  she  came  out  softly,  and 
cautiously  closing  the  door,  proceeded  to  the  stable  and 
saddled  a  pony  which  Mrs.  S.  kept  chiefly  for  the  use  of 
Emily,  but  which  the  young  lady  seldom  used,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  ennui  which  continually  oppressed  her. 

The  curiosity  of  Douglass  was  fully  aroused,  and  he 
determined  at  all  hazards  to  see  who  it  was  that  thus 
made  themselves  busy  o'nights ;  but  the  mysterious  visi- 
tant was  too  quick  for  him — she  mounted  the  pony,  set 
it  into  a  gallop,  and  taking  a  by-street  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  started  off  in  the  direction  of  what  then  was  the 
country.  Two  hours  passed,  when  he  heard  the  sound 
of  the  horse's  hoofs  returning,  and  the  figure  entered  the 
garden  by  the  back  gate,  dismounted,  and  leading  the 
pony  into  the  stable,  brushed  it  down  and  groomed  it ; 
then  again  went  into  the  bed-room  of  the  servant  man, 
and  remaining  but  a  short  time,  came  out  and  entered 
the  house.  She  seemed  to  be  in  a  perspiration  with  her 
ride  and  her  subsequent  work  of  grooming  the  pony,  and 
she  threw  aside  her  heavy  veil,  disclosing  the  feature?  of 
Emily  S ! 

Douglass  stood  as  if  thunder-struck.  At  length,  as  sha 
was  about  closing  the  door,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Is  it  possible,  Miss  S !" 

Emily  turned — did  not  appear  the  least  alarmed :  but 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  141 

placing  her  finger  to  her  lips,  as  if  to  implore  silence,  en 
tered  the  house  and  retired  to  her  room. 

In  the  morning  Douglass  was  questioned  by  his 
friend  as  to  what  he  had  discovered ;  but  he  made  an 
evasive  reply. 

"  Then  I  presume,"  said  young  S.,  "you  have  been  as 
unfortunate  as  myself?" 

Douglass  did  not  answer,  and  they  proceeded  to  talk 
of  other  matters : 

"  Our  double  wedding  comes  off  next  week,"  said  Ed- 
ward, after  a  short  silence.  "  Louisa  B.  will  not  have 
the  company  of  her  husband  long,  though— for  I  under- 
stand the  Washington  will  have  her  repairs  completed 
in  a  few  days,  and  then  I  shall  soon  be  off  to  sea.  I  half 
envy  you,  Douglass,  who  can  remain  on  shore  and  enjoy 
the  honeymoon,  and  I  don't  know  how  many  other 
moons  in  your  wife's  company.  Well,  without  flattering 
you,  old  fellow,  I  say  Emily's  a  lucky  girl,  and  when  she 
gets  married,  I  hope  she  will  get  over  that  strange  de- 
pression and  fatigue,  or  as  the  French  word  better  ex- 
presses it,  ennui,  which  now  annoys  her  so  much.  We 
are  to  be  married  on  the  same  day,  you  know." 

Douglass  made  no  reply. 

"Why,  what  ails  you?"  said  young  S .  "You 

look  as  grumpy  as  a  bear." 

"  Nothing  of  consequence  ;  but  I  am.  not  exactly  pre- 
pared for  a  change  of  condition  so  soon  as  you  seem  to 
anticipate.  I  don't  think,  Edward,  my  marriage  with 
your  sister  will  come  off  next  week." 

"  How !  What !  Why,  has  not  the  business  been  all 
arranged  ?" 

"  It  has ;  but  circumstances  have  occurred  to  cause  me 
to  alter  my  mind." 

"  Do  my  mother  and  sister  know  of  your  intention  ?" 
'  Not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  What  then  do  you  mean?"  said  young  S ,  pas- 
sionately. <l  I  demand  an  explanation." 

"  And  as  yet,  I  do  not  choose  to  give  one." 

"  Scoundrel !"  said  Edward  S ,  who,  we  have  men 


142  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 


tioned,  was  of  a  passionate,  impulsive  temperament,  "; 
would  betray  my  sister,  would  you?     Take  that,"  giv 


'you 
giving 

Douglass  a  severe  blow  in  the  face — "and  if  you  are  not 
a  coward,  as  you  are  a  scoundrel,  revenge  it." 

"  You  have  done  away  with  the  necessity  of  explana- 
tion, Edward  S ,"  said  Douglass,  calmly.  '<  There  is 

now  but  one  course  left.  Meet  me  this  evening  in  the 
fields  beyond  Bleecker-street,  just  by  the  barn,  alone. 
We  need  no  witnesses  nor  seconds." 

"As  you  will,"  said  S ,  savagely.     "  I  am  glad  at 

least  to  find  you  are  not  a  coward  as  well  as  villain.  I 
shall  be  there ;  pistols,  of  course  ?"  he  added. 

"  Pistols,"  said  Douglass,  and  so  they  parted. 

They  met   according  to   appointment,    and   Edward 

S fell  severely  wounded,  the  bullet  from  Douglass's 

pistol  having  penetrated  his  shoulder. 

"  You  have  the  best  of  it,"  said  he  to  Douglass,  who 
was  endeavoring  to  stem  the  hemorrhage ;  for  the  wound 
bled  profusely. 

Douglass  made  no  reply ;  but  fortunately  a  farmer's 
wagon  passing  near  at  hand,  he  stopped  the  driver,  and 
putting  five  dollars  into  his  hand,  bade  him  assist  the 
wounded  man  into  the  wagon,  and  convey  him  to  his 
his  own  residence,  where,  having  arrived,  I  was  sent  for. 

With  considerable  difficulty  I  managed  to  probe  the 
wound,  and  to  extract  the  ball,  and  had  the  satisfaction 
of  Ending  that,  provided  inflammation  did  not  set  in,  the 
wound,  thoug  severe,  and  likely  to  be  a  long  time  heal- 
ing, was  not  likely  to  prove  mortal.  I  ordered,  however, 
that  Edward  should  be  kept  free  from  any  excitement, 
and  at  the  request  of  Douglass,  promised  to  break  the 
unfortunate  affair  to  young  S — —  s  mother  and  sister. 

When  seated  in  a  private  room,  Douglass  explained  to 
me  the  whole  affair. 

I  saw  at  once  through  it  all,  and  discovered  the  mys- 
tery of  the  fatigue  and  loss  of  appetite  of  Miss  Emily,  the 
unfortunate  young  lady,  who  was  afflicted  with  somnam- 
bulism, and  thus  the  whole  matter  was  cleared  up. 

I  had  much  to  do  however,  to  convince  Douglass,  who 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  143 

professed  disbelief  in  any  such  disorder,  strange  to  say, 
having  never  heard  of  it.  We  agreed,  however,  with 

the  concurrence  of  young  S ,  who  was  able  during 

the  course  of  the  day,  to  listen  to  my  explanation,  and 
completely  to  exculpate  his  friend,  laying  all  the  blame 
OH  his  own  impetuosity,  to  make  some  excuse  for  Ed- 
ward's absence  from  home  for  a  day  or  two,  and  to  watch 

both  of  us  together  the  next  night  at  Mrs.  S 's  house, 

and  thus  be  completely  satisfied. 

We  did  so,  and  with  the  like  results. 

I  then  broke  the  subject  to  Mrs.  S.,  who  was  much 
•shocked,  although  I  had  made  light  of  the  affair,  assuring 
her  that  probably  the  very  fact  of  the  habit  being  discov- 
ered, would  prevent  its  renewal.  I  also  told  her  of  the 
accident  that  had  befallen  her  son,  assuring  her,  however, 
of  his  speedy  and  perfect  recovery  beneath  my  care. 

"  But  my  daughter,"  said  the  widow,  "  never  could  con- 
sume the  provisions  I  have  missed,  had  she  the  appetite 
of  a  plowman." 

"One  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  nervous  disease,"  said 
I,  "  is,  that  the  patient  is  quite  ignorant  of  all  that  he  or 
she  does  during  the  time  the  fit  is  upon  them.  Probably 
if  you  search  your  daughter's  apartment,  you  will  find 
some  clue  to  the  wholesale  disappearance  of  your  edible 
property." 

Mrs.  S.  did  so,  and  in  an  old  worm-eaten  trunk  in  a 
small  closet  which  no  one  ever  thought  of  looking  into, 
was  found  such  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  mouldy  victuals 
as  fairly  astonished  her,  and  me,  when  she  had  shown  them 
to  me.  It  would  appear  that  Miss  Emily,  having  satis- 
fied her  appetite,  had  put  the  remainder  of  the  food  hab- 
imally  into  this  trunk,  and,  of  course,  forgotten  it. 

As  to  the  visit  to  the  man-servant's  room,  she  went 
there  for  the  purpose  of  getting  and  replacing  a  portion 
of  the  pony's  harness ;  and  her  grooming  the  horse  was 
easily  explained  to  me,  for  I  was  aware  that  the  victims 
of  this  singular  disorder  always  strive  to  maintain  invio- 
lable secrecy,  and  I  understood  Emily  had,  when  a  child, 
before  the  disease  came  over  her,  been  passionately  fond 


144  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

of  horses.  As  to  the  groom  himself  not  waking,  he  slept 
so  soundly  that  the  firing  of  a  twelve  pounder  within  a 
few  yards  of  him  would  scarcely  have  aroused  him  before 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  Mrs.  S.,  having  no  sus- 
picions whatever  of  her  daughter,  she  had  the  coast  clear 
to  herself;  but  as  is  always  the  case,  had  abstained  from 
night-walking  whenever  she  had  heard  her  brother  say 
he  or  any  one  else  would  watch  during  the  night,  although 
in  her  waking  moments  utterly  ignorant  that  she  was  the 
midnight  wanderer.  As  I  suspected,  the  shock,  when 
told  of  the  habit,  actually  prevented  her  from  following 
it  again,  and  Douglass,  being  freed  by  Edward  S.  from 
all  blame,  and  satisfied  on  his  part  of  the  innocence  of 
Emily,  the  double  marriage  was  only  postponed  until  he 
was  quite  recovered.  In  the  meantime,  the  ship  he  was 
chief  officer  of,  had  sailed  ;  but  he  went  out  a  few  months 
after,  in  the  capacity  of  master  and  part  owner.  Both 
marriages  turned  out  happily,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  Edward  S.  retired  from  sea,  and  eventually  became 
a  prosperous  ship-owner.  Mrs.  S.  is  still  living  with  her 
son-in-law,  in  one  of  the  southwestern  States,  and  I  be- 
lieve Emily  has  never  since  been  afflicted  with  somnam- 
bulism. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  146 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    ACTOR LOVE,    MADNESS,    AND    SUICIDE. 

GEORGE  HARLEY  had  been  a  playmate  of  my  youth- 
ful days,  and  at  the  first  school  to  which  I  was  sent  he 
accompanied  me.  He  remained  there  during  the  whole 
period  that  I  did,  and  when  I  went  to  college,  there  I  left 
him.  From  what  I  recollect  of  young  Harley  at  school, 
he  was  not  especially  remarkable  for  his  attention  to  his 
lessons.  In  fact,  he  was  generally  at  the  bottom  of  his 
class ;  but  this  was  from  no  actual  want  of  capacity,  for 
he  was  as  quick-witted  as  any  lad  of  his  age,  and  remark- 
able for  his  vivacity  in  the  playground,  but  from  sheer 
idleness,  or  rather  a  disinclination  to  attend  to  the  dry 
study  of  grammar,  mathematics,  and  the  rudiments  of 
geography,  astronomy,  &c.  He  was,  however,  a  most  in- 
defatigable reader  of  works  of  imagination,  and  more  par- 
ticularly of  plays,  either  tragedy,  comedy,  or  melo-drama 
— nothing  of  the  kind  came  amiss  to  him,  and  to  gain 
time  for  the  perusal  of  these  he  would  even  quit  the 
play-ground  when  his  favorite  games  were  going  forward, 
and  would  smuggle  bits  of  candle  into  his  bed-room,  and 
devote  hour  after  hour,  stolen  from  sleep,  for  the  sake  of 
indulging  in  his  favorite  amusement  Another  faculty 
he  possessed,  to  a  great  degree,  was  that  of  story-telling, 
and  often,  when  he  had  failed  in  stealing  candle-ends  out 
of  the  kitchen,  or  coaxing  them  from  the  servants,  he 
would  keep  his  roorn-mates  awake,  hour  after  hour  relat- 
ing stories,  the  creation  of  his  own  boyish  imagination. 
Often,  too,  he  was  punished  for  having  novels,  &c.,  in  his 
possession — a  class  of  books  which  were  rigidly  interdict- 
ed by  the  rules  of  the  school.  But  neither  punishment 
nor  disgrace  could  cure  him  of  his  morbid  appetite  for 
these  works. 

As  I  have  said,  I  left  him  at  school  when  J  went  to 


146  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

college,  and  I  heard  nothing  more  of  him  for  several 
years.  One  evening,  shortly  after  my  removal  from  Con- 
cord to  New  York,  I  treated  myself  and  my  wife  to  the 
rare  indulgence  of  a  seat  at  the  theatre.  I  forget  now 
the  subject  of  the  performance ;  but  among  the  actors 
was  one  whose  voice  seemed  to  resemble  one  familiar  to 
my  ears,  though  I  could  not  recollect  where  I  had  heard 
it.  We  were  seated  in  a  box  directly  over  the  stage,  and 
therefore  could  distinctly  see  the  features  of  the  actors, 
and  I  was  naturally  led  closely  to  observe  those  of  the 
young  man  whose  voice  arrested  my  attention.  I  thought 
there  was  something  in  his  countenance  which  recalled 
to  my  recollection  the  days  of  my  boyhood.  I  looked 
at  the  play  bill,  but  that  furnished  no  clue  to  my  memo- 
ry, for  the  name  of  the  actor  was  set  down  as  De  Moulins. 
I  knew  that  no  person  of  that  name  had  ever  been  on  the 
list  of  my  acquaintance,  but  I  was  also  aware  that  actors 
often  took  assumed  names.  At  length,  at  some  particu- 
lar point  of  the  drama,  a  gesture  made  by  the  actor  was 
so  marked  in  character,  that  I  recognized  him  at  once, 
and,  to  the  surprise  of  my  wife  and  those  seated  in  the 
box  near  me,  I  said  aloud : 

"  By  Jove !  that's  George  Harley." 

The  stare  that  met  me  in  all  directions  reminded  me 
of  my  forgetfulness,  and  hurriedly  explaining  to  my  wife 
the  cause  of  my  astonishment,  I  watched  with  consider- 
able interest  the  performance  of  my  quondam  schoolfel- 
low and  my  boyhood  companion. 

At  that  day  I  was  not  sorely  beset  with  overmuch 
practice,  and  half  my  time  was  spent  in  gratuitous  visits 
to  the  poor.  I  therefore  had  always  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  day  to  spare  when  I  desired  it. 

The  next  day  I  called  at  the  box  office  and  asked  the 
box-keeper  if  he  could  tell  me  where  Mr.  Je  Moulius'  resi- 
dence was,  or  where  I  was  most  likely  to  find  him. 

"I  do  not  know  his  residence,"  was  the  reply,  "but 
about  this  hour,  several  of  the  gentlemen  engaged  at  the 
theatre  are  accustomed  to  assemble  at  a  sort  of  club- room 
they  have  close  by  (naming  a  hotel)  for  the  purpose  of 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  147 

smoking,  chatting,  and  reading  the  newspapers.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  you  were  to  meet  De  Moulins  there  now." 

Thanking  the  box-keeper,  I  directed  my  steps  to  the 
place  of  rendezvous  he  had  pointed  out,  which  was  only 
a  few  blocks  off,  and  on  entering  the  reading-room,  there 
sure  enough  was  the  object  of  my  search.  Although  I 
had  experienced  considerable  difficulty  and  doubt  as  re- 
garded the  correctness  of  the  recognition  of  the  previous 
evening,  when  George  was  in  his  theatrical  costume,  with 
false  moustaches  and  painted  face,  there  was  no  possibili- 
ty of  any  mistake  now.  Notwithstanding  several  years 
had  elapsed  since  we  had  met,  his  features  had  scarcely 
altered,  although  I  was  sorry  to  see  a  haggard,  care-worn 
look  which  saf  ill  on  the  countenance  of  one  yet  so  young, 
and  which  I  feared  betrayed  habitual  intemperance.  He 
was  seated  by  himself,  reading  a  newspaper,  and  at  the 
same  time,  regaling  himself  with  a  cigar ;  so,  being  sure 
that  none  could  overhear  us,  I  seated  myself  by  his  side, 
and  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  at  the  same  time  extend- 
ing my  hand,  I  said — 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  this  is  George  Harley  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment  as  if  half  inclined  to  deny 
his  name,  but  meeting  my  gaze,  he  at  once  recognized 
me  and  replied : 

"  Why,  James  ,  my  dear  fellow,  where  in  the 

d — 1's  name  did  you  spring  from  ?"  and  he  shook  me 
warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  I  am  practising  as  a  physician  in  this  city,"  I  replied, 
"  that  is,  when  I  can  get  practice,  although  I  find  that 
no  very  easy  matter ;  but  you,  Harley,  how  came  you 
to  take  to  the  stage.  Such  a  profession  is  surely  quite 
in  opposition  to  the  puritan  ideas  of  your  father,  who,  if 
I  recollect  aright,  was  one  of  the  principal  elders  of  our 
church  at  Concord?" 

"  Hush,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  looking  cautiously 
around,  "  I  am  known  here  as  Albert  de  Moulins ;  for- 
gad !  recollect  yourself  and  don't  call  me  Harley,  else 
you  will  raise  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish.  It's  well  none  of 
our  fellows  were  within  ear  shot.  As  to  my  taking  to  the 


148  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

stage,  it  is  but  following  out  an  old  fancy  of  mine  which 
I  could  not  resist,  though  Heaven  and  earth  and  all  my 
friends  to  boot  had  opposed  my  designs.  It  was  my 
destiny,  James,  and  I  could  not  fly  against  it.  My  father 
wanted  me  to  go  to  college.  He  had  a  notion  of  making 
a  lawyer  of  me ;  but  that  idea  I  resisted  with  all  my 
might.  He  then  said  if  I  was  determined  to  neglect  my 
studies  he  would  put  me  to  work  on  the  farm.  Well,  I 
thought  I  should  like  that  well  enough;  anything  to  get 
a  release  from  the  drudgery  of  the  school-house ;  but  I 
soon  found  that  farming  was  too  hard,  monotonous  labor 
for  one  of  my  kidney,  and  when  I  should  have  been 
ploughing,  I  was  amusing  myself  and  half  a  dozen  of  the 
hired  hands,  with  spouting  Shakespeare.  The  old  man 
soon  found  this  would  not  answer,  so  he  got  me  into  a 
store  in  Boston ;  but  I  found  measuring  goods  behind 
a  counter  more  irksome  still.  However,  I  continued 
there  a  year  or  two,  always  getting  into  some  scrape  for 
not  paying  attention  to  the  customers,  and  but  that  the 
boss  was  indebted  to  my  father  I  should  have  been  sent 
adrift  the  first  month.  However,  when  I  had  been  in 
Boston  about  two  years,  the  old  man  died,  and  I  was 
sent  for  to  go  home.  When  the  funeral  was  over,  and 
my  father's  affairs  were  arranged,  it  was  found  that  he 
had  left  my  mother  in  pretty  good  circumstances.  My 
elder  brother  William  was  to  manage  the  farm ;  and  I 
was  to  go  back  to  Boston  and  the  dry  goods  store.  I  kick- 
ed a  good  deal  at  this  arrangement,  but  William  and  my 
mother  determined,  and  so  with  a  heavy  heart  I  started 
from  home ;  on  the  way  I  fell  in  with  two  lively  young 
fellows,  who  were  going  to  New  York  and  thence  to 
Philadelphia,  where  they  had  an  engagement  at  the  the- 
atre, and  we  got  to  be  so  intimate,  and  liked  each  other's 
company  so  well,  that  I  was  easily  persuaded  to  accom- 
pany them,  and  they  procured  me  a  supernumerary's 
berth  at  the  house  at  which  they  were  engaged.  From 
that  I  took  other  characters  under  the  name  of  De  Mou- 
lins,  and  since  then  I  have  performed  in  most  of  the 
cities  of  the  Union,  and  I  flatter  myself  not  without  ac- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  149 

quiring  some  distinction  in  my  profession.  This  is  the 
fourth  engagement  I  have  had  in  New  York  and  you 
are  the  first  of  my  old  acquaintances  who  have  recognized 
me.  My  mother  and  brother  have  no  idea  what  has  be- 
come of  me,  and  as  my  circle  of  acquaintance  boasts  of 
few  play  goers,  I  have  little  fear  of  being  discovered. 
By  and  by,  when  Fortune  thinks  proper  to  shower  her 
favors  on  me,  I  shall  go  home  a  distinguished  man,  ask 
my  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing,  and  perchance  re- 
tire from  the  stage ;  though  I  doubt  if  I  shall  reconcile 
myself  to  that  while  I  am  able  to  tread  the  boards.  After 
all  it's  a  hard  life,  and  if  it  has  its  pleasures  and  excite- 
ments, it  also  has  its  pains  and  drawbacks —  Vbila  tout ! 
And  now  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  really  glad  to  shake 
hands  with  you — come  to  the  bar,  and  let's  have  a  glass 
of  wine  together,  and  you  must  come  to  the  theatre  to- 
night. What  say  you?" 

I  declined  the  proffered  invitation  to  drink  at  that 
early  hour;  (it  was  not  10  o'clock,)  but  promised  to  come 
to  the  theatre  in  the  evening,  receiving  a  free  pass  from 
my  old  school  fellow.  George  laughed  at  my  squeam- 
ishness,  as  he  termed  it. 

"  Why,"  said  He,  "  I  could  do  nothing  were  it  not  for 
the  stimulus  that  wine  gives.  I  should  be  as  nervous  as 
an  old  man  of  sixty." 

I  told  him  the  excitement  was  an  unhealthy  one,  and 
would  assuredly  leave  its  mark  in  premature  old  age  and 
imbecility,  if  not  in  a  speedier  and  more  fatal  manner ; 
but  George  laughed  and  pooh  pooh'd,  and  finally,  find- 
ing that  I  could  not  be  tempted,  called  for  a  tumbler  of 
wine  for  himself  and  drank  it  at  a  draught. 

"  And  now,  James,"  said  he,  when  he  had  sent  away 
the  tumbler,  "tell  me,  are  you  married?" 

"  I  am,"  I  replied. 

"  I  thought  as  much ;  you  were  always  a  steady-going 
chap,  just  fitted  for  home  and  domestic  comfort  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  When  you  come  to  the  theatre  to- 
night (the  play  will  be  Othello,  in  which  character  I  shall 
perform,)  take  notice  of  the  young  lady  who  plays  the 


150  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

part  of  Desdemona;  for,  egad!  you  will  acknowledge 
that  she  is  the  handsomest  creature  you  ever  sat  eyes 

upon  ;  her  name  is  Miss  P .  I  am  paying  my  court 

to  her ;  but  she  is  such  a  coquette  that  I  feel  half  inclined 
to  act  the  part  of  the  jealous  Moor  to  life,  and  to  smo- 
ther her  outright.  Twice  when  I  thought  the  game 
was  certain,  have  I  been  on  the  point  of  proposing,  and 
both  times  she  has  laughed  at  my  confusion,  and  yet 
managed  to  lure  me  on.  Do  you  know  if  she  would  be- 
come my  wife,  I  should  feel  half  inclined  to  give  up  the 
stimulant  of  wine.  It  is  now  the  only  thing  that  can 
drown  the  jealous  thoughts  which  haunt  me  night  and 
day." 

"  If  she  be  the  coquette  you  say,  her  affections,  could 
they  even  be  secured,  would  not  be  worth  the  pains  of 
wooing  them.  '  Le  jeu  ne  vaut  pas  la  chandeUe,1  as  the 
French  adage  says.  Take  my  advice,  George,  abstain 
from  this  habit  of  hard  drinking ;  for,  I  speak  to  you  as 
an  old  friend ;  it  is  even  now  perceptibly  telling  upon 
your  constitution.  Get  married  and  settled  is  my  advice, 
by  all  means,  but  choose  a  wife  after  the  manner  of  the 
Vicar  of  Wakefield,  in  Goldsmith's  admirable  novel,  '  for 
qualities  that  will  wear  well.'  Believe  me,  a  disposition 
to  coquetry  in  a  mistress,  will  not  add  to  the  attractions 
of  a  wife." 

"  My  good  James,  you  are  talking  to  the  wind.  It  is 
idle  to  waste  words  upon  me  by  giving  me  common- 
place advice.  I  must  marry  Miss  P ;  I  will,  by 

heaven !  for  the  man  who  robs  me  of  her  shall  die  by 
my  hand  or  I  by  his." 

I  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  talk  to  him ;  reason  he 

would  not;  besides  Miss  P 's  coquetry  might,  for 

ought  I  knew,  exist  only  in  his  imagination,  so  I  wished 
him  good  morning  and  went  to  visit  my  few  patients. 

In  the  evening  I  attended  the  theatre  again  with  my 
wife,  taking  care  to  secure  the  same  seats  we  had  occu- 
pied on  the  previous  night.  I  had  then  noticed  the 
beauty  of  the  actress,  and  it  had  been  remarked  by  my 
wife ;  but  I  was  so  engrossed  in  the  recognition  of  my 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  151 

old  schoolfellow,  that  she  had  not  attracted  the  notice 
she  otherwise  might  have  done. 

She  was  indeed  a  lovely  creature,  and  George,  I  per- 
ceived, was  so  infatuated  that  he  made  several  trifling 
mistakes  in  his  part.  His  eyes  followed  her  even  when 
he  should  have  been  addressing  other  actors  in  the  play, 
and  his  whole  bearing  showed  the  influence  she  had  ob- 
tained over  him.  There  was  that  in  her  glances  too, 
which  showed  to  a  close  observer  that  he  was  not  indiffer- 
ent to  her;  but  coquette  was  plainly  stamped  upon  her 
features  as  though  the  word  had  been  written  on  her  brow. 

I  saw  George  several  times  while  he  remained  in  New 
York,  and  every  time  he  led  the  conversation  to  Miss 

P .  She  haunted  his  imagination  to  such  a  degree 

that  sometimes,  when  under  the  influence  of  wine,  which 
he  usually  was  even  before  he  went  on  the  stage  in  the 
evening,  at  which  time  I  usually  made  my  calls,  having, 
through  him  admittance  to  the  green  room,  that  I  feared 
he  would  be  led  to  the  committal  of  some  rash  act.  I 

was  introduced  to  Miss  P likewise,  and  I  soon  found 

out  that  George  was  right  in  what  he  had  told  me,  and 
that  I  had  also  read  her  character  correctly.  Still  I  could 
scarcely  wonder  at  his  idolatry,  I  can  call  it  nothing 
else,  for  she  was  a  beautiful,  fascinating  being,  and  ap- 
peared to  take  especial  delight  in  entangling  him  in  her 
toils. 

In  the  course  of  a  month  the  company  went  south- 
ward, and  six  months  elapsed  before  they  again  returned 
to  New  York. 

A  day  or  two  after  I  had  read  in  the  newspaper  of 
their  return  to  the  city,  I  called  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  Harley  and  was  told  that  he  was  indisposed.  As 
he  was  then  sleeping  I  did  not  go  up  to  his  room ;  but 
in  the  course  of  the  day  I  received  a  letter  from  him, 
which  ran  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  JAMES  :  I  am  very  ill,  worse  than  people  be- 
lieve me  to  be.  Come  and  see  me  this  evening.  I  can- 
aot  play.  She  will  be  on  the  stage.  If  you  can  bring 


» 


152  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

any  stimulant  with  you  that  will  give  me  strength  for  an 
hour  at  whatever  cost,  pray  do  so.  Yours,  truly, 

"GEORGE  HARLEY — DE  MOULINS." 

I  called  an  hour  earlier  than  the  time  specified  in  the 
note,  and  was  ushered  into  George's  room.  He  was  lol- 
ling restlessly  upon  a  sofa,  from  which  he  did  not  rise 
when  I  entered.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  feebly 
grasped  mine,  and  I  was  deeply  pained  to  witness  the 
ravages  that  I  feared  intemperance  had  made  upon  him 
in  the  short  space  that  had  elapsed  since  we  had  parted. 

"  Can  you  get  me  up,  so  as  to  go  on  the  stage  to- 
night?" he  said,  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  a  chair.  "Dear 

,  I  must  see  Clara  to-night  or  I  shall  go  mad — mad. 

She  has  not  been  to  see  me  since  I  have  been  ill.  I  am 
not  very  ill  after  all,  am  I?"  he  continued.  "It  is  per- 
haps fancy.  See,  I  can  walk,"  and  he  attempted  to  rise ; 
but  in  so  doing,  fell  back  on  the  sofa.  "  Yes,"  he  added 
mournfully,  "I  am  weak — very  weak  ;  but  my  dear  fel- 
low, do  give  me  something  that  will  strengthen  me  suf- 
ficiently to  visit  the  green  room  to-night?" 

At  this  moment  a  waiter  entered  the  room  with  wine, 
which  he  placed  upon  a  table  near  the  sofa,  within  reach 
of  the  invalid. 

He  stretched  out  his  trembling  hand  to  reach  it. 

"George  Harley,  are  you  mad?"  said  I,  as  I  took  the 
tumbler  from  him.  "  You  will  kill  yourself.  Even  now 
you  have  every  symptom  of  incipient  brain  fever.  If 
you  drink  that  wine,  I  will  not  answer  for  tne  conse- 
quences." 

"Mad!"  said  he — "yes,  mad  enough.  Kill  me!  wine 
kill  me  !  Pshaw  !  it  is  all  that  keeps  me  alive.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  this  makes  the  sixth  tumbler  I  have  drank  to-day." 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  again  seized  the  tumbler,  and  be- 
fore I  could  prevent  him,  had  drained  it  to  the  dregs. 
The  glass  fell  from  his  hand  and  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
floor  as  he  fell  back,  uttering  some  incoherent  mutter- 
irngs.  For  some  moments  he  remained  in  a  sort  of  stupor 
I  summoned  assistance  and  had  him  placed  in  bed,  or 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  153 

dering  such  applications  as  I  thought  necessary,  and  di- 
recting ice  to  be  freely  applied  to'  his  temples.  He  gradu- 
ally recovered  and  opened  his  eyes ;  but  appeared  to  re- 
cognize no  one,  and  frequently  called  on  the  name  of 
Clara.  I  administered  an  opiate,  and  soon  he  sank  into 
an  unquiet  slumber,  when  I  left  him,  promising  to  call 
the  next  morning. 

I  did  so,  and  found  him,  as  I  dreaded,  suffering  under 
brain  fever,  and  raving  with  delirium.  For  three  days 
he  was  unconscious ;  but  on  the  fourth,  the  fever  toojf.  a 
favorable  turn,  and  he  recognized  me  and  others  about 
him. 

"  Where's  Clara,  James  ?"  said  he.  "  It  is  strange  she 
has  not  been  to  see  me  this  morning,  although  she  has 
been  here  night  and  day  lately.  How  long  have  I  been 
ill,  and  what  ails  me  ?  How  my  poor  head  aches.  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  write  my  composition.  Down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  class  again.  Well,  that's  nothing  new. 
You  must  help  me,  and  to  night  I  will  lend  you  Tom 
Jones  to  read.  Give  me  some  wine — wine,"  he  shrieked 
as  he  again  was  seized  with  a  fresh  fit  of  delirium. — 
"  Wine,  wine,  women  and  wine ;  a  short  life  and  a  merry 
one,"  and  he  attempted  to  sing  a  stave  of  a  well  known 
drinking  song.  One  glance  satisfied  me  he  would  never 
rise  from  that  bed  in  health  again,  and  as  I  knew  the  ad- 
dress of  his  mother,  I  wrote  immediately  to  her,  conjur- 
ing her,  if  she  hoped  to  see  her  long  lost  son  alive,  to 

come  to  him  immediately.   I  also  called  upon  Miss  P 

and  told  her  of  the  dangerous  condition  of  M.  de  Moulins. 
At  the  moment  she  was  laughing  and  coquetting  in  the 
green  room  with  some  half  a  dozen  male  admirers.  On 
my  disclosing  my  errand,  she  turned  pale  and  appeared 
as  if  about  to  faint.  She  however,  recovered  herself,  and 
quitting  the  room  with  me,  made  further  inquiries  re- 
specting the  illness  of  her  lover.  I  told  her  all — that  in 
his  delirium  he  had  spoken  alone  of  her ;  that  I  had 
written  to  his  mother,  and  that,  if  he  should  show  any 
symptoms  of  returning  consciousness,  I  thought  a  visit 
from  her  would  at  least  serve  to  compose  him,  after  I 

7* 


154  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

had  prepared  him  for  it.  She  appeared  deeply  affected, 
and  was  even  moved  to  tears  and  said, 

"  I  will  call,  doctor,  to-day,  now,  any  time  you  please. 
Poor  Albert !  I  was  not  aware  that  he  was  so  ill." 

Having  obtained  her  promise,  I  left  her;  but  some 
days  elapsed,  during  which,  though  the  fever  had  left 
him,  or  it  must  have  carried  him  off,  he  was  too  low  and 
too  excited,  when  spoken  to,  to  allow  me  to  mention  her 
name  to  him.  He  lay  in  a  stupor,  muttering  occasionally 
t<4  himself,  and  once  or  twice  I  distinctly  heard  him  whis- 
per the  word  "  mother."  I  was  only  fearful  that  he 
would  not  live  to  see  and  to  obtain  the  forgiveness  and 
blessing  of  his  mother.  Of  his  recovery,  there  was  now 
no  hope.  At  length  she  arrived  at  my  house,  and  that 
day  my  poor  patient  was  so  much  more  composed,  that 

I  had  spoke  to  him  of  Miss  P ,  and  told  him  she  would 

visit  him.  I  informed  her  of  it,  and  she  promised  to  call 
at  the  appointed  hour,  (I  should  mention  that  she  had 
not  appeared  on  the  stage  since  the  day  I  had  first  told 
her  of  George's  dangerous  illness) — Mrs.  Harley  I  took 
with  me  to  her  son's  lodgings  at  the  same  time,  and  poor 
George  recognized  them  both,  and  wept  bitterly.  All  in 
the  room  were  in  tears,  and  the  heart-broken  mother, 
who  had  found  her  long  lost  child  only  to  see  him 
stretched  on  the  bed  of  death,  was  inconsolable. 

George  begged  her  forgiveness,  which  was  freely  and 
fully  accorded,  the  poor  grief-stricken  woman  sobbing 
out,  "  Live  George — live,  my  long  lost,  beloved  son,  and 
all  will  yet  be  well." 

Miss  P knelt  by  the  bed-side,  sobbing  hysterically, 

and  I  began  to  fear  the  effects  of  the  excitement  might 
be  immediately  fatal  to  the  dying  man.  With  difficulty 
I  led  them  from  the  room,  the  mother,  with  a  beseeching 
look,  asked  if  there  was  indeed  no  hope  ?  I  could  give 
her  no  comfort,  and  for  the  present  I  begged  that  she 
would  not  further  excite  her  son  by  her  presence.  She 
promised,  on  condition  that  she  might  remain  in  the  next 
room  during  the  night.  This,  of  course,  I  could  not  ob- 
ject to,  and  I  returned  to  my  patient,  administered  an 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  155 

opiate,  and  left  him  tranquilly  sleeping.    I  walked  home 

with  Miss  P ,  who  appeared  to  be  almost  as  much 

affected  by  the  scene  she  had  witnessed,  as  the  poor  mo- 
ther herself. 

The  following  morning  I  again  called  at  Harley's 
lodgings,  not  without  a  strange  foreboding,  so  prostrated 
was  his  frame,  that  the  quiet  sleep  in  which  I  had  left 
him  might  possibly  have  proved  to  him  the  sleep  of 
death. 

When  I  entered  the  house,  I  saw  that  every  one  of 
the  inmates  were  fearfully  agitated. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  I  asked.  "Is  Mr. De  Moulins 
dead?"  For  by  that  name  they  only  knew  him. 

"  He  is,  sir,"  was  the  trembling  reply  of  the  landlady, 
"  and  alas !  he  has  met  his  death  by  his  own  hand." 

"  Good  God !"  said  I,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Mr.  De  Moulins  has  committed  suicide,"  was  all  the 
poor  woman  could  say,  and  I  rushed  up  stairs  to  learn 
what  had  really  happened. 

It  was  too  true.  A  fit  of  delirium,  accompanied  by  a 
return  of  fever,  had  seized  upon  the  sick  man  in  the 
night,  and  with  the  unnatural  strength  that  is  often  seen 
on  such  occasions,  he  had  risen  from  his  bed,  and  gone 
to  a  drawer,  where,  unknown  to  any  one,  he  kept  a  pair 
of  pistols — his  razors  I  had  removed  from  the  room. — 
His  mother  had  heard  the  noise  of  his  footsteps,  and  had 
rushed  into  the  room  just  in  time  to  see  her  son  apply 
one  of  the  loaded  weapons  to  his  forehead,  and  to  wit- 
ness his  death.  She  had  since  fallen  into  a  succession  of 
fainting  fits,  and  for  some  hours  I  feared  for  her  reco- 
very. At  length  she  became  more  composed.  I  could 
do  nothing  more  than  offer  such  vain  consolation  as  was 
in  my  power,  and  I  saw  the  necessary  preparations,  after 
the  inquest,  for  the  decent  burial  of  the  unhappy  young 
man.  His  mother  followed  him  to  the  grave,  ana  then 
returned,  a  saddened  woman,  to  her  home.  Miss  P.,  who 
was  in  reality  the  cause  of  poor  George's  sad  fate — for  I 
learnt  that  until  he  met  with  her,  he  had  never  given 
himself  so  completely  up  to  drink,  appeared  inconsola- 


156  THE  OLD  DOCTOR ;  OR, 

ble.  She  performed  no  more  in  New  York,  and,  in  a 
few  days  after  the  funeral,  went  home  to  her  friends  in 
Baltimore.  I  heard  no  more  of  her  for  some  three  or 
four  months,  when,  by  chance  taking  up  'a  Baltimore  pa- 
per, I  read  the  following  announcement : — "  The  beauti- 
ful and  talented  Miss  P.,  who  for  the  last  two  months 
has  delighted  our  citizens  by  her  exquisite"  performances 
at  the  theatre  in  this  city,  has  at  length  changed  her 
name.  She  was  married  at  Charleston,  S.  C.,  on  Monday 
last,  to  Mr.  S.,  a  wealthy  planter  of  that  State.  We  hear 
that  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  marriage  is,  that'  she  is 
not  again  to  appear  upon  the  stage.  While  we  rejoice 
at  her  good  fortune,  the  theatrical  world  will  suffer  an 
irreparable  loss." 

I  read  the  paragraph  with  disgust. 

"So  much,"  thought  I,  "  for  the  feeling  that  exists  in 
the  heart  of  a  coquette.  Poor  Mr.  S.,  indeed  I  pity  you. 
You  have  planted  a  thorn  in  your  side  which  will  embit- 
ter your  future  life." 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  157 

CHAPTEE   XIII. 

THE   ACTRESS. 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  a  wintry  day  in  December, 
1840, 1  was  quitting  the  house  of  a  wealthy  patient,  whom 
I  had  suddenly  been  called  to  visit,  from  my  residence, 
just  as  I  had  sat  down  to  dinner,  when  I  was  addressed 
in  the  following  words  by  a  little  girl  apparently  about 
twelve  years  of  age  : 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  she,  "  are  you  Dr. ?" 

"  That  is  my  name,  my  dear,"  said  I ;  "  what  is  it  you 
want  with  me?" 

"My  mother,  who  is  very  ill,  and  who  lives  in  the  next 
street,  sent  me  to  your  house,  sir,  to  beg  that  you  would 
call  upon  her  when  you  have  time.  They  told  me  you 

had  gone  out  to  see  Mrs. ,  in  Beekman-street,  and  I 

thought  I  might  find  you  here,  and  perhaps  you  would 
go  with  me  to  my  mother's.  It  is  such  a  long  way  from 
your  house." 

"  So  it  is,  my  poor  little  girl — a  long  way  to  drive  on 
such  a  day  as  this,  and  how  much  longer  must  it  have 
been  for  you  to  walk  amidst  all  the  slop  and  snow  on  the 
street,  and  amidst  this 'driving  sleet,  too.  Come,  let  me 
lift  you  into  the  chase,  and  we  will  drive  round  to  your 
mother's  house." 

So  saying,  I  lifted  the  little  creature  into  the  carriage, 
and  getting  in  myself,  we  drove  rapidly  round  into  Ful- 
ton-street, where  the  child  directed  me  to  stop  at  the  door 
of  a  small  lodging  house. 

"  It  is  here  mother  lives,"  said  she,  "  up  stairs  on  the 
third  floor  back.  She  is  very  ill,  and  will  be  so  glad  that 
you  have  come  so  quickly." 

I  assisted  the  child  from  the  carriage,  and  she  guided 
me  up  the  narrow,  winding  staircase,  to  the  room  occu- 
pied oy  her  mother. 


158  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

The  invalid  was  reposing  upon  a  sofa  which  extended 
the  entire  breadth  of  this  narrow  apartment,  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room  being  occupied  with  a  small  bedstead. 
A  faded  carpet  covered  the  floor,  and  with  a  couple  of 
chairs,  comprised  the  whole  furniture.  A  few  embers 
shed  a  sickly  glow  from  a  small  grate  set  in  the  wall,  and 
gave  some  degree  of  warmth  to  the  apartment ;  but  the 
temperature  was  quite  inadequate  to  the  severity  of  the 
season.  All  the  furniture  was  clean  and  free  from  dust, 
but  faded  and  worn,  showing  evidently  that  it  was  the 
wreck  of  what  had  constituted  a  goodly  show  in  happier 
days.  On  the  walls,  however,  were  hung  several  pictures, 
chiefly  consisting  of  landscapes  and  domestic  scenes, 
which  I,  at  the  first  glance,  conceived  to  be  engravings; 
but  which  I  found  on  close  inspection,  were  pencil  draw- 
ings of  the  most  exquisite  finish  ;  these  were  interspersed, 
here  and  there,  with  a  few  pictures  in  water  colors,  and 
in  the  narrow  window-sill  was  a  pot  of  mignionette  which 
diffused  its  grateful  fragrance  throughout  the  small  apart- 
ment. 

"  Dr. has  been  good  enough  to  come  with  me, 

dear  mamma,"  said  the  child,  as  she  closed  the  door  and 
ran  to  her  mother,  throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck 
and  kissing  her. 

The  lady,  for  such,  despite  her  poverty,  she  evidently 
was,  arose  from  her  couch  and^welcomed  me,  thanking 
me  in  a  mild,  musical  voice  for  my  prompt  attention,  and 
begging  me  to  be  seated,  then  turning  to  the  child,  she 
said: 

"  Poor  little  Annie,  you  have  had  a  weary  walk,  dar- 
ling. Sit  down  near  the  fire  and  dry  your  feet.  It  was 

too  bad  to  send  you  to  Dr. 's,  and  on  such  a  day  as 

this,  but  I  fear  I  am  very  ill." 

"  May  I  inquire  what  are  the  symptoms  of  your  dis- 
ease, Madame  ?"  said  I. 

"I  can  but  tell  you  in  general  terms,  doctor,"  replied 
the  invalid,  "for  it  would  be  a  difficult  task  even  for  me 
to  describe  them  individually.  I  am  suffering  beneath 
a  general  prostration  of  the  system,  a  lassitude  that  effect- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  159 

ually  precludes  my  making  even  the  slightest  exertion — 
and  sometimes  I  fear" — she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  that  I 
have  an  affection  of  the  lungs,  the  forerunner  of  con- 
sumption ;  but  I  hope  I  am  mistaken,  for  were  I  to  be 
taken  from  her,  what  would  become  of  my  poor  child." 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  fancied,  on  first  entering  the 
room,  that  the  invalid  lady  was  suffering  under  the  fell 
ravages  of  consumption,  for  the  hectic  flush  which  rushed 
to  her  cheek  upon  her  addressing  me,  the  pinched  appear- 
ance of  the  features,  the  dark  ring  around  the  eyes,  ren- 
dering so  much  more  startling,  in  connection  with  the 
palor  of  the  face,  their  sparkling  lustre,  her  long  attenu- 
ated fingers,  and  the  transparent  delicacy  of  her  complex- 
ion, were  all  symptoms  of  the  sinister  ravages  of  a  dis- 
order, the  deceitful  but  fatal  character  of  which  all  medi- 
cal men  know  but  too  well. 

I  felt  her  feeble  pulse,  and  made  such  other  inquiries 
as  I  deemed  proper,  desired  her  to  procure  some  simple 
medicine,  and  promised  to  call  the  next  day  and  bring 
with  me  some  preparations  which  I  hoped  might  be  of 
some  service  to  her.  As  I  rose  to  quit  the  room,  she 
said : — 

"  I  fear,  Doctor ,  that  I  cannot  expect  you  to  call 

upon  me  as  a  regular  patient,  for — "  and  she  hesitated  for 
a  moment,  and  a  deeper  blush  suffused  her  cheek — "  you 
can  but  be  aware  that  I  have  not  the  means  of  paying  a 
doctor's  bill.  Give  me,  if  you  please,  such  general  in- 
structions as  you  think  it  advisible  for  me  to  follow,  and 
if  in  your  calls  of  business,  my  poor  lodgings  should  be 
in  your  way,  perhaps  now  and  then  you  will  step  in  and 
see  how  I  get  along,"  as  she  said  this  she  attempted  to 
place  a  small  piece  of  paper  in  my  hand,  which  on  look- 
ing at,  I  found  to  be  a  dollar  bill.  I  immediately  offered 
to  return  it,  but  she  added,  "  I  am  aware,  doctor,  1  am 
offering  too  small  a  fee,  but  indeed  it  is  all  I  have  to 
give." 

"  Dear  madam,"  said  I,  "  we  will  talk  of  fees  at  another 
time :  for  the  present,  take  back  the  bill  and  I  promise  to 
call  and  soe  you  daily  as  long  as  I  think  it  necessary. 


160  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

My  remuneration  will  be  a  consideration  of  after  cir- 
cumstances, and  by  the  by,  may  I  ask  what  is  your 
name,  for  I  do  not  recollect  that  you  have  introduced 
yourself  to  me  by  name.  If  you  have,  I  did  not  note  it 
at  the  time." 

"  My  name,"  she  replied,  "  is  S .  I  did  not  think 

it  worth  while  to  mention  it,  Doctor ,  for  I  did  not 

care  that  you  should  recognize  me ;  but  since  you  are 
determined  to  act  the  part  of  the  good  Samaritan,  I  can- 
not expect  to  keep  my  incognito  ;  nor  do  I  know,  in  fact, 
why  I  should  be  ashamed  to  make  myself  known  to  you. 
It  is  an  infirmity  of  human  nature  that  we  do  not  wish 
to  be  recognized  by  those  who  have  known  us  in  better 
days,  although  if  our  poverty  be  not  the  fault  of  idleness 
or  crime,  it  is  a  false  shame  which  leads  us  to  think  that 
poverty  dishonorable."  . 

"Mrs.  S of  Cambridge  !"  said  I,  in  a  voice  of  as- 
tonishment, and  as  I  closely  scrutinized  her  features,  I 
thought  I  could  still  recognize,  beneath  the  mask  of  ill 
health  and  increased  years,  and  perhaps  mental  as  well 
as  bodily  anguish,  the  greatest  belle,  and  subsequently, 
the  most  beautiful  and  winning  bride  of  my  acquaintance, 
before  my  own  days  of  courtship  had  commenced,  "  can 
it  be  possible  that  I  see  you  thus.  How  strange  1  I  might 
have  known,  too,  by  the  manner  in  which  you  received 
me  and  the  readiness  with  which  you  addressed  me  by 
name,  that  we  had  met  before.  Nay — now,  I  must,  in- 
deed, have  no  more  excuses,"  added  I,  smilingly,  "you 
must  put  yourself  in  my  hands,  and  obey  my  behests, 
whatever  they  may  be.  Now,  you  may  be  sure  that  I 
shall  visit  you  in  the  regular  routine  of  my  patients, 
for " 

I  stopped  speaking.  I  was  on  the  point  of  asking  a 
question  which  the  poor  invalid  might  have  considered 
obtrusive  :  that  was  to  inquire  into  the  causes  which  had 
led  to  her  present  state  of  apparent  poverty.  She,  how- 
ever, divined  my  thoughts, — 

"  You  doubtless  are  surprised  to  see  me  reduced  to  the 
low  ebb  of  fortune  I  now  am,  Dr.  .  It  is  natural 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  161 

you  should  be  so ;  but  I  do  not  now  feel  equal  to  the 
narration  of  the  history  of  my  life  since  I  quitted  Cam- 
bridge a  gay  and  happy  bride  many  years  ago.  Another 
time  I  may  tell  you  all ;  for  it  will  be  a  relief  to  meet 
with  the  sympathy  of  a  friend  of  former  years.  I  will 
only  say  that,  although  of  late  years  I  have  met  with 
unceasing  sources  of  sorrow  and  tribulation ;  for  some 
time  after  I  had  left  Cambridge — as  long  as  poor  Alfred 
lived — my  life  was  all  that  a  happy  loving  wife  could  de- 
sire. Farewell,  doctor,"  and  she  extended  to  me  her  thin 
hand,  which  I  pressed  gently  and  withdrew  from  the 
room. 

I  called  again  the  following  day,  and  found  Mrs.  S 

much  in  the  same  condition,  perhaps  a  little  more  pros- 
trated ;  but  that  I  anticipated  from  the  primary  effects  of 
the  medicine  I  had  given  her.  She  had  been  many  years 
before  slightly  acquainted  with  my  wife  (before  our  mar- 
riage) and  after  having  called  several  times,  and  overcame 
the  natural  delicacy  which  led  me  to  refrain  from  the  sem- 
blance of  offering  patronage  to  the  distressed  whom  we 
have  known  in  happier  days,  when  they  were  better  off, 
so  far  as  this  world's  goods  are  concerned,  than  we,  I  set 
about  thinking  how  I  could,  without  seeming  to  do  so, 
afford  her  such  assistance  as  in  her  situation  she  needed  ; 
for  although  the  poor  lady  tried  to  disguise  it,  I  could  not 
help  seeing  that  she  was  miserably  poor,  and  often  I 
thought  the  restorative  medicines  I  ordered  were  not  pro- 
cured, simply  because  she  had  not  the  money  to  purchase 
them  with  ;  indeed  I  wondered  how  she  supported  her- 
self and  her  daughter  at  all. 

One  morning  therefore  I  related  all  the  circumstances 

to  my  wife,  and  got  her  to  call  with  me  at  Mrs.  S 's 

lodgings  on  the  following  day,  and  under  pretence  of 
business  I  left  the  two  ladies  together,  having  previously 
arranged  with  my  wife  that  she  should  endeavor,  in  the 
most  delicate  manner  possible,  to  offer  her  such  assist- 
ance as  one  female  may,  without  the  appearance  of  con- 
descension, offer  to  another  enfeebled  by  ill  health  and 
oppressed  by  misfortune.  Having  been  absent  for  about 


162  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

an  hour,  I  returned  to  the  house  and  I  and  my  wife  left 
it  together.  She  (my  wife)  was  much  impressed  with  the 
elegant  manners  and  patient  disposition  of  her  new  ac- 
quaintance, and  from  that  day  an  intimacy  commenced 
between  the  two  which  was  continued  until  the  death 
of  poor  Mrs.  S . 

My  wife  (I  must  call  her  Susanna,  "  wife  "  seems  so 
formal)  well  then,  Susanna  was  almost  an  every  day 
visitor,  and  I  soon  found  her  a  better  doctress  in  Mrs. 

S 's  case,  than  I  was  a  doctor ;  she  soon  became  so 

improved  in  health  that  she  was  enabled  to  ride  out,  and 
then  she  was  a  frequent  visitant  at  my  residence.  The 
seeds  of  consumption,  it  is  true,  were  too  deeply  sown  in 
her  constitution  to  be  eradicated ;  but  there  was  every 
appearance  that  she  might  live  perhaps  for  a  year — per- 
haps for  years — to  take  a  mother's  care  of  her  innocent 
and  interesting  child. 

One  day  we  were  all  three  sitting  in  my  drawing  room. 
It  was  on  the  25th  of  February,  after  1  had  first  been 
called  to  visit  the  invalid,  and  it  was  the  anniversary  of 
her  marriage.  By  some  means — perhaps  it  was  pur- 
posely on  my  part,  for  I  had  a  great  curiosity  to  know 
what  series  of  misfortunes  had  reduced  the  poor  lady  to 
her  present  position,  the  conversation  was  led  to  olden 
times  in  Cambridge. 

For  some  minutes  she  was  visibly  affected;  but  at 
length  she  said : 

"  Dear  Mr. ,  it  is  but  natural  that  you  should  be 

anxious  to  know  what  ill  fate  brought  me  into  the  grasp 
of  poverty,  after  having  married  a  young  man  whose 
position  at  that  time,  and  whose  future  prospects  were 
so  advantageous.  I  will  give  you  a  brief  history  of  my 
life  since  we  parted  at  Cambridge,  the  day  after  my  mar- 
riage to  Alfred  S . 

"  My  dear  husband,  as  you  know,  was  the  son  of  a 
wealthy  merchant  in  Boston,  and  although  educated  for 
the  law,  he  did  not  practice,  as  he  was  the  sole  heir  to 
his  father's  reputed  wealth ;  had  himself  a  most  liberal 
allowance  from  his  father ;  and  besides,  was  of  too  lively 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  168 

a  disposition  to  bend  himself,  under  such  circumstance^ 
to  the  dry,  irksome  studies,  which  his  profession  would 
have  necessarily  imposed  upon  him. 

"  We  travelled,  after  our  marriage,  over  the  greater 
portion- of  the  United  States,  and  then  went  to  Europe, 
where  we  spent  three  or  four  years,  chiefly  in  England 
and  France.  Oh,  what  happy  years  were  those  to  me ! 
Alfred  was  the  kindest  of  husbands,  and  my  every  wish 
was  gratified  even  before  I  had  made  it  known  to  him. 
Dear  Alfred !  he  seemed  to  have  the  power  to  divine  my 
thoughts,  arid  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  anticipate  my 
desires. 

"  On  our  return  to  the  United  States,  we  went  to  live 
in  the  country,  near  Springfield,  Mass.,  to  which  place 
my  father-in-law  had  retired  —  having,  some  twelve 
months  before  given  up  business.  For  three  years  more 
my  life  was  one  of  happiness — happiness  too  great  for 
one  human  being  to  monopolize.  I  might  have  feared 
some  misfortune,  had  not  my  soul  been  intoxicated  with 
happiness  and  love. 

"  The  first  misfortune  that  befel  us  was  the  death  of 
our  first-born — a  lovely  boy  of  four  years  of  age,  who 
was  born  while  we  were  in  Europe. 

"  This  was  a  sad  blow  to  me,  for  it  was  the  first  time 
that  I  had  been  familiar  with  death ;  and,  then,  for  the 
fell  destroyer  to  make  his  dreadful  presence  known, 
through  the  death  of  my  first-born,  my  boy,  my  beloved 
child,  was,  I  thought,  too  great  a  sorrow  for  me  to  bear; 
but,  I  still  had  a  smiling  infant — this  dear  child,  now  her 
mother's  only  earthly  solace — and,  by  degrees,  my  grief 
being  softened  and  subdued  by  the  tender  solicitude  and 
the  consolation  of  my  husband,  I  became  somewhat  re- 
conciled to  the  loss  of  my  boy.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
months  from  this  period,  my  father-in-law's  health  began 
*o  decline,  and  he  became  evidently  much  troubled  in 
mind.  He  had  frequent  conferences  with  my  husband, 
and  sometimes  I  saw  a  gloom  upon  Alfred's  fine  features; 
but  he  strove  to  be  cheerful  when  with  me,  and  I  was 
too  glad  to  see  him  smile  to  inquire  too  minutely  into 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

the  cause  of  his  secret  sorrow.  On  my  part,  I  had 
nothing  to  complain  of;  my  every  wish  continued  to  be 
gratified,  even  as  they  were  in  the  earlier  days  of  our 
marriage.  - 

"  At  length,  Alfred's  father  died ;  and  scarcely  were 
the  arrangements  for  the  funeral  completed,  and  the  body 
of  the  good,  kind  old  man  deposited  in  its  final  resting- 
place,  before  I  could  perceive  that  something  of  a  serious 
nature  occupied  Alfred.  He  was  frequently  closeted 
whole  days  with  gentlemen  who  were  strangers  to  me, 
and  for  the  first  time  since  our  marriage  I  began  to  think 
him  neglectful  of  me.  I  need  not  dwell  long  upon  this 
painful  subject.  One  day  Alfred  was  unusually  down- 
cast, and  I,  having  in  vain  sought  to  cheer  him,  at  length 
flung  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  besought  him,  by 
the  love  he  bore  his  wife,  to  tell  me  the  cause  of  his  dis- 
tress, that  I  might  share  it  with  him.  He  looked  at  me 
steadily  and  mournfully  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
said,  in  deep,  earnest,  loving  tones  which  thrilled  to  my 
heart : — 

"  '  Dearest  Agnes,  can  you  love  me  in  poverty  and  dis- 
tress as  you  have  done  in  wealth  and  in  the  sunshine  of 
existence  ?  Can  you  hear  me  say  I  am  a  beggar  and 
still  cling  to  me  as  you  cling  to  me  now?' 

" '  Yes,  dear  Alfred,'  I  replied,  '  and  if  it  be,  indeed, 
possible,  love  you  dearer.  Why  should  not  I,  your 
wife,  share  the  misfortunes  as  well  as  the  prosperity  of 
her  husband  ?  Was  it  not  to  be  yours  ever,  for  better, 
for  worse,  I  took  the  vows  at  the  marriage  altar,  and 
shall  I  renounce  them  on  feeling  the  first  breath  of  mis- 
fortune ?  Never,  dear  Alfred — never.  I  am  your  wife 
— your  own  Agnes,  in  life — through  sunshine  and  gloom, 
even  unto  death.' 

"  He  kissed  me  and  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes  as  he 
replied — 

"'And  is  it  so?  This  is  what  I  thought,  yet  some- 
times scarcely  dared  to  hope.  Now  half  the  bitterness 
of  my  affliction  is  past.  Agnes,  darling,  I,  who,  but  a 
month  or  two  since  was  the  imagined  heir  to  wealth,  am 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  165 

now  a  beggar.  Henceforward  I  must  depend  upon  my 
own  exertions  for  subsistence,  and,  severest  blow  of  all, 
you,  dearest,  must  quit  this  splendid  mansion  and  give 
up  the  luxuries  of  life,  at  least,  to  bear  a  part  in  youi 
husband's  troubles.  Again  I  ask,  dear,  can  you  renounce 
these  and  love  me  still  ?' 

"  '  All,  I  can  give  up  all,  everything  but  my  husband 
and  my  child,  and  love  them  dearer  than  ever,  for  they 
will  have  my  undivided  care.' 

"  A  mutual  kiss  sealed  this  compact,  and  then  my  dear 
husband  proceeded  to  tell  me  that  his  father,  on  quitting 
active  business,  had  entered  into  large  speculations,  in 
connection  with  others,  and  that,  through  unforeseen 
circumstances,  they  had  failed.  He,  though  only  equally 
responsible  with  the  rest,  as  he  had  been  led  to  believe, 
had  been  compelled  to  bear  the  heaviest  portion  of  the 
losses,  which  had  swallowed  up  his  whole  property,  large 
as  it  had  been,  and  left  still  a  little  deficiency. 

"  Our  next  care  was  to  think  how  my  husband  had 
best  apply  himself  in  order  to  maintain  his  family.  I 
suggested  the  profession  for  which  he  had  been  educated; 
but  he  said  his  habits  of  life  had  been  such  that  he  never 
could  apply  himself  to  the  practice  of  the  law  with  any 
hope  of  success.  '  Besides,'  he-added,  '  the  profession  is 
overrun  already.' 

"  When  in  England  he  had  become  acquainted  with, 
two  or  three  distinguished  actors,  and  this  acquaintance 
had  been  ripened  into  intimacy — for  they  were  a  class  of 
men  with  whom  he  possessed  many  feelings  in  common, 
and  while  in  that  country  he  had  been  for  some  months, 
one  of  a  company  of  amateur  performers  who  had  ac- 
quitted themselves  very  creditably.  He  had  formed  a 
resolution  not  to  let  his  poverty  be  known  in  his  own 
land,  but  to  state  his  altered  circumstances  to  his  English 
friends,  and  ask  them  for  advice  as  to  his  following  the 
profession  of  an  actor  for  a  livelihood,  which  he  had 
previously  practiced  for  amusement.  He  did  not  write ; 
but  with  the  little  money  he  possessed,  he  took  passage 
for  London,  and  there,  through  the  influence  of  Johc 


166  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

Kemble  and  one  or  two  others,  he  obtained  an  engage- 
ment at  the  theatre  of  a  large  provincial  town. 

*'  However,  he  found  that  it  was  a  very  different  thing 
to  play  as  an  amateur  for  the  amusement  of  friends,  and 
to  play  before  a  cold,  critical  public  for  the  means  to 
purchase  bread.  Had  he  been  brought  up  in  youth  to 
the  stage,  he  would  probably  have  become  a  successful 
actor — for  you  will  pardon  the  partiality  of  a  wife,  who 
firmly  believes  in  the  strength  of  her  husband's  natural 
talent ;  but  he  was  too  old  and  too  much  used  to  pros- 
perity to  bear  with  the  sneers  of  critics,  and  the  hisses 
and  contemptuous  remarks  of  an  uneducated  audience, 
from  whom,  by  social  habits  and  education,  he  was  widely 
separated.  I,  anxious  to  help  him,  was  also  persuaded 
to  try  my  fortune  on  the  boards;  but  alas!  with  the  like 
ill  success.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  spirits  and  health 
of  my  beloved  husband  sunk  beneath  his  misfortunes, 
and  a  violent  fever  which  he  caught  after  exposure  to 
cold,  soon  left  me  a  widow  in  a  strange  land." 

Here  the  poor  lady  was  so  agitated,  that  for  some  mo- 
ments she  was  silent,  while  suppressed  sobs  caused  her 
bosom  to  heave  with  emotion.  At  length  she  con- 
tinued : — 

"  After  my  poor  Alfred's  death,  the  public,  perhaps 
moved  by  pity  for  my  misfortunes,  began  to  look  with  a 
more  favorable  eye  on  my  endeavors,  and  I  gradually, 
under  the  assumed  name  of  B 1,  grew  into  some  de- 
gree of  favor,  and  if  my  health  had  continued  good,  might 
have  arisen  to  fame ;  but  I  found  disease  was  making 
encroachments  upon  my  constitution,  always  predisposed 
to  consumption,  and  I  was  compelled  to  quit  the  stage. 
I  had  saved  a  little  money  ;  with  that  I  returned  to  the 
United  States,  in  the  hope  that  the  change  might  be 
beneficial  to  me — but  I  have  found  no  relief,  until  I  sent 
for  you,  whose  name  I  recollected  as  soon  as  I  heard  it 
mentioned  by  a  friend  who  had  called  to  see  me. 

"  What  little  money  I  had  brought  with  me,  was  soon 
spent,  and  since  then  I  have  endeavored  to  support  my- 
self and  my  poor  little  Annie,  by  turning  to  account 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  167 

some  little  natural  talent  I  possessed  for  drawing.  Annie 
takes  my  sketches  to  the  picture  dealers  for  me ;  but  I 
arn  sorry  to  say  that  my  poor  exertions  can  scarcely  pro- 
cure me  bread  and  the  humblest  of  lodgings.  This  is  all 
I  have  to  tell.  I,  who  too  proudly  thought,  when  a 
child,  I  was  born  to  enjoy  a  life  of  happiness  and  ease, 
have  since  been  taught  a  bitter  lesson — but  one  that  I 
hope  I  have  profited  by." 

She  ceased,  and  I  could  not  repress  the  expression., 

"Can  it  be  possible,  my  dear  Mrs.  S ,  that  you 

were  the  actress — once  the  flattered  of  the  newspaper 
critics— the  talented  and  accomplished  Mrs.  B 1  ?" 

"Even  so,"  she  replied,  mournfully — "and  while  I 
was  thus  flattered,  and  nightly  smiling  to  the  plaudits 
of  a  gratified  audience,  even  then  my  heart  was  break- 
ing." 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  extend  this  sketch  further 

than  merely  to  say  that  Mrs.  S lived  for  upwards  of 

a  year  after  this,  and  I  and  other  friends  purchased  such 
drawings.  &c.,  as  she  had  on  hand,  or  worked  at,  at  such 
times  as  in  the  course  of  her  insidious  disease  she  found 
herself  in  better  health  than  usual,  at  prices  which  in- 
sured her  competence,  and  at  her  death,  we  sent  little 
Annie  to  school.  The  child  was  worthy  of  our  care,  and 
grew  up  to  be  an  accomplished  and  graceful  young  wo- 
man. She  was  some  yeare  ago  married  to  a  lawyer,  who 
is  doing  well,  and  who  is  not,  as  was  her  poor  father,  un- 
fitted by  habit  and  a  life  of  inglorious  ease,  from  follow- 
ing his  profession. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 
CHAPTEE  XIY. 

THE  DEATH-BED  OF  THE  SPENDTHRIFT. 

I  MENTIONED  in  my  last  "  leaf,"  the  name  of  a  fellow- 
student  at  Harvard  University,  Edward  Marsden.  We 
were  college  chums,  and  had  shared  alike  our  studies 
and  our  pleasures,  often  the  latter,  I  am  sorry  to  say  to 
rny  own  disadvantage,  for  Ned,  as  I  used  familiarly  to 
call  him,  had  much  more  abundant  means  at  his  com- 
mand, as  the  only  son  of  a  retired  merchant,  than  I  had 
as  the  son  of  an  independent,  but  by  no  means  wealthy 
New  England  farmer,  who  had  some  half  dozen  chil- 
dren to  provide  for.  Ned  was  an  erratic  genius — every- 
body liked  him,  and  yet  the  staid  elders  of  the  college, 
and  the  cautious  papas  and  mammas  of  the  neighbor- 
hood always  held  him  up  as  a  type  of  reckless  character 
not  to  be  imitated  by  their  own  sons,  and  although  the 
young  ladies  were  delighted  with  his  companionship, 
scarcely  one  of  the  families  whom  he  visited,  where  there 
were  marriageable  daughters,  considered  him  as  an  eligi- 
ble son-in-law,  notwithstanding  at  his  father's  death  he 
would  come  into  possession  of  considerable  property. 

No  one  ever  saw  Edward  Marsden  engaged  at  his 
studies,  and  yet  he  always  maintained  a  foremost  posi- 
tion in  his  class  at  college  ;  but  I  knew  that  after  spend- 
ing the  entire  day  until  late  at  night,  in  some  frivolous 
pursuit,  in  fishing,  shooting  or  riding,  he  would  come 
into  his  room  when  every  one  else  was  about  retiring  to 
rest,  and  burn  the  lamp  till  day-light,  engaged  in  in- 
tense study.  He  would  then  throw  himself  down  on  his 
bed  for  a  couple  of  hours,  rise,  douse  himself  'well  in  cold 
spring  water,  and  be  prepared  for  his  various  studies, 
without  failing,  as  I  believe,  in  one  single  instance.  Ned 
was  studying  medicine  more  for  the  sake  of  amsuement, 
and  that  he  might  have  a  nominal  profession,  than  any 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  169 

thing  else ;  he  had  studied  law  for  two  years,  and  then 
thrown  it  up,  because  it  was,  he  said,  too  dry  and  tedi- 
ous for  a  gentleman,  and  too  full  of  chicanery  and  double 
dealing  for  an  honest  man.  He  then  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  chemistry,  and  studied  it  with  the  most  devoted 
earnestness  for  one  year,  when,  upon  some  frivolous  pre- 
tence, he  threw  that  aside ;  and,  while  he  kept  up  as 
usual,  the  study  of  the  classics,  he  spent  his  time  in  ar- 
ranging and  retouching  a  collection  of  fugitive  poems 
which  he  asserted  he  was  preparing  for  the  press.  These, 
however,  were  never  published — chiefly  I  believe,  be- 
cause he  could  get  no  publisher  to  purchase  the  manu- 
script. So  one  evening,  after  having  imbibed  rather  an 
undue  quantity  of  wine,  he  made  quite  a  melo-dramatic 
aulo-de-fe  of  it,  in  spite  of  my  endeavors  to  prevent  him, 
spouting  some  Latin  verses  on  the  burning  of  the  Alex- 
andrian library,  while  his  manuscript  was  consuming. — 
He  had  a  natural  talent  for  drawing,  and  when  he  had 
consummated  this  sacrifice  of  the  gifts  of  the  muses,  he 
swore  that  he  would  leave  college  and  become  an  artist. 
Accordingly  he  went  home  and  remained  six  months ; 
but  at  the  expiration  of  that  period,  I  was  surprised  by 
his  bursting  into  my  bed-room  before  I  was  up  one 
morning,  and  telling  me  that  he  had  returned  to  study 
medicine.  This  study  he  pursued  until  the  death  of  his 
father,  (his  mother  had  died  some  years  before,)  when  he 
had  but  a  few  days  before  attained  his  majority.  His 
father  had  not  died  so  wealthy  a  man  as  had  been  ex- 
pected ;  nevertheless  Edward  found  himself  in  the  pos- 
session of  some  thirty  thousand  dollars.  He  was  greatly 
distressed  at  his  father's  death,  and  as  he  had  gone  home 
on  hearing  the  sad  tidings,  I  saw  nothing  of  him  for 
three  months.  At  the  expiration  of  that  time,  he  came 
to  visit  me,  and  stayed  a  few  days  with  me,  during  which 
period,  he  treated  the  whole  of  the  students  to  a  grand 
festival,  at  which  Bacchus  was  worshipped  to  the  fullest 
extent.  So  much  so,  indeed,  that  some  very  disgraceful 
scenes  were  enacted — several  of  the  guests  being  found 
under  the  table,  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  the  carouse 

8 


170  TEE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

among  empty  bottles  and  broken  glasses,  while  others. 
singing,  "They  wouldn't  go  home  till  morning,  till  day- 
light did  appear/'  perambulated  the  streets  of  Boston, 
knocking  down  watchmen  and  committing  other  acts  of 
lawlessness,  which  led  to  the  incarceration  of  a  dozen  of 
the  number,  and  if  I  mistake  not  to  two  or  three  expul- 
sions from  college. 

Having  done  mischief  enough  at  the  place  where  he 
certainly  should  have  learnt  better  things,  young  Mars- 
den  went  to  New  York,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him  until 
some  months  after  my  own  removal  to  this  city,  when  I 
by  chance  met  him  in  Broadway.  He  invited  me  to  call 
and  see  him  at  his  apartments  in  an  hotel  on  the  Battery, 
and  on  visiting  him,  I  found  him  keeping  bachelors'  hall 
in  grand  style.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  called, 
and  on  being  shown  up  to  Mr.  Marsden's  room  by  the 
waiter,  I  found  him  reclining  on  an  ottoman  in  an  apart- 
ment gorgeously  furnished  in  oriental  style,  smoking  a 
hookah  through  perfumed  water,  a  black  boy  attending 
the  bowl  of  the  pipe,  to  replenish  it  with  the  finest  Turk- 
ish tobacco,  after  the  style  of  the  East. 

He  was  arrayed  in  a  Persian  robe  with  turban,  and 
pointed,  turned  up  slippers  of  superb  workmanship,  while 
the  apartment  was  scented  with  burning  pastiles  and  a 
splendid  chandelier  cast  a  light  over  furniture  of  the 
most  magnificent  description. 

"You  see  I  am  going  it  strong,  doctor,"  was  his  salu- 
tation as  I  entered — "  nothing  like  it,  is  there  ? 

Live  while  you  live,  the  epicure  would  say, 
And  taste  the  pleasures  of  the  present  day.' 

That's  my  motto,  old  fellow.  I  leave  out  the  second 
stanza — it  belongs  to  those  of  a  different  creed.  I'm  an 
epicurean  philosopher." 

I  asked  him  if  he  was  practising  his  profession,  as  I 
was  acquainted  with  the  names  of  most  of  the  members 
of  my  profession  in  the  city,  and  did  not  see  his  name 
among  them. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "  hang  medicine,  doctor ;  excuse  me, 


=>""'' 


THE      BACHELOR'S 

Edward  Mandeu  WM  atlired  in  a  Persian  costume,  and  at  a  ihort  distance  from  him  knelt  •  black  ho  y  ' 
»ho  wna  engaged  !•.  attend  to  his  "  Narghilly  "  according  to  Oriental  custom.    The  room  wai  furnUh**!  IB 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY   JOURNAL.  171 


n't  apply  the  expression  to  its  professors,  but  '  throw 
sic  to  the  dogs — I'll  none  of  it,   ahem  !  Shakespeare. 


I  don't 

physic 

Shakespeare  was  a  wise  man,  and  I  can't  do  better  than 

follow  his  advice,  can  I?" 

I  smiled,  and  trusting  to  our  old  intimacy,  ventured  to 
ask  him  how  long  his  finances  would  allow  him  to  sup- 
port such  extravagance. 

"Oh  !"  he  carelessly  replied,  "I  don't  know;  in  fact, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  know  what  money  I  have  in  my 
banker's  hands.  I  draw  out  what  I  want,  and  when  it's 
all  gone  I  suppose  they'll  be  quick  enough  in  saying  "No 
funds ;"  well,  when  that  day  comes,  I  shall  sell  off  my 
furniture,  my  horses  and  carriage,  and  set  up  business  in 
opposition  to  you>  so  you  had  better  pray  that  the  evil 
day  be  put  off  as  long  as  possible ;  besides,  perhaps  I 
shall  die  before  then  ;  and  another  thing — I  am  going  to 
get  married  to  an  heiress,  a  sweet  creature,  rather  old 
though — fat,  fair  and  forty,  and  a  widow  into  the  bargain 
— but  what  of  that  ?  if  she  wears  false  curls — mind  I 
don't  say  she  does,  but  I  have  my  suspicions,  because  her 
hair  is  so  deuced  black,  and  that's  not  so  often  the  case 
at  her  time  of  life — her  money's  good.  She's  got  $20,000 
of  her  own,  and  as  I  guess  rny  $30,000  must  even  now 
be  running  to  the  end  of  its  tether,  why  it'll  set  me  up 
again,  old  fellow." 

''  You  surely  are  joking,"  I  replied,  for  I  really  thought 
he  was  ;  "  what  age  are  you  now  ?" 

"  What  age  am  I  ?  Why,  I'm ;  let  me  see.  My  dear 
fellow,  just  go  to  that  book-case  and  fetch  me  that  gilt 
lettered  Bible  of  my  mother's.  I'm  always  confoundedly 
tired  at  night.  If  you  want  information  it  is  but  right 
you  should  be  at  the  trouble  of  seeking  it.  I  really  don't 
know  within  a  year  or  two  how  old  I  am.  I'm  getting 
up  in  years  though.  You'll  see  my  name  and  the  date 
of  my  birth  on  the  title-page."' 

I  humored  him  and  took  him  the  Bible. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  continued,  "  do  please  to  look 
yourself.  You  see,  if  I  drop  my  hookah  I  shall  put  my 


172  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

pipe  out,  and  that's  deuced  unpleasant,  besides  being  very 
troublesome." 

I  turned  to  the  title-page  of  the  Bible,  and  found  that 
he  was  in  his  twenty-fifth  year. 

"  I  told  you  I  was  getting  up  in  years,"  he  said,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  I  found  two  gray  hairs  in  my  head  this  morning, 
and  made  a  holocaust  of  them  to  the  goddess  of  vanity." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  serious  in  saying  that  you  intend 
to  marry  a  woman  of  forty  ?"  I  said. 

"  My  good  doctor,  if  you  said  forty-five  you'd  be  nearer 
the  mark.  Indeed  I'm  not  sure  the  fair  dame  is  not  bor- 
dering on  the  full  half  century.  What  of  that?  She'll 
be  both  mother  and  wife ;  and  then,  you  see,  money  I 
must  soon  want,  and  money,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  I  must 
have." 

''  But  in  your  present  style  of  living,  how  long  will 
twenty  thousand  dollars  last  ?"  I  added. 

"  Oh  !"  he  laughingly  replied,  "  as  I'm  living  now,  not 
long,  I  suppose;  but  as  old  Jack  FalstafF  says:  'I  shall 
forswear  sack  and  live  cleanly'  when  I  enter  into  the  joys 
of  wedlock ;  besides,  my  good,  steady,  sober  doctor,  I 
don't  live  so  extravagantly  now  as  you  may  be  led  to 
suppose.  I  don't  drink  hard,  I  don't  gamble,  I  am  no 
debauchee  ;  all  my  pleasures  are  refined  and  gentlemanly, 
and  money,  although  it  goes  fast  enough  in  all  conscience, 
any  way,  goes  twice  as  far,  in  my  way  of  enjoying  it, 
than  if  I  lived  in  apparently  a  much  less  expensive  style, 
and  resorted  to  more  expensive  and  less  refined  pleasures. 
I  am  not  only  going  to  get  married  as  I  have  told  you ; 
but  the  interesting  ceremony  will  come  off  next  week, 
and  I  shall  send  you  a  card  of  invitation  to  the  wedding, 
so  hold  yourself  prepared,  and  now  enough  said  upon 
the  subject ;  take  a  cigar  and  a  glass  of  wine.  I'm  going 
to  have  have  a  deviled  chicken  directly  ;  join  me  in  dis- 
patching it,  and  let's  talk  of  old  times." 

I  saw  it  was  no  use  arguing,  so  I  did  as  he  requested 
me,  and  after  spending  an  hour  in  conversation  about  our 
college  days  and  our  old  companions,  I  returned  home. 
Sure  enough,  next  week  I  did  receive  an  invitation  to  the 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  178 

wedding,  and  I  could  do  no  less  than  attend,  with  my 
wife.  It  was  a  magnificent  affair,  and  made  not  a  little 
stir  at  the  time  among  the  fashionables  of  the  city,  as 
much  on  account  of  the  discrepancy  of  age,  on  the 
wrong  side,  between  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  as  on  ac- 
count of  the  splendor  with  which  the  whole  affair  was 
conducted. 

As  Marsden  had  told  me,  the  bride  was,  I  should  judge, 
near  fifty  ;  but  she  must  once  have  been  very  handsome, 
for  she  was  still  a  fine  looking  woman.  She  was,  as  may 
be  supposed,  very  fond  of  her  husband ;  but  although 
Marsden  constrained  himself  to  appear  devoted  to  his 
bride,  for  with  all  his  carelessness  he  was  too  kind-hearted 
willingly  to  cause  pain  to  any  one,  the  love  was  all  on  one 
side.  However,  the  wedding  passed  over,  and  Marsden 
entered  upon  a  fresh  career  of  extravagance.  I  saw  little 
of  him,  for  although  I  visited  him  once  for  old  acquaint- 
ance sake,  his  habits  were  of  such  a  description  that  I 
had  not  the  inclination,  nor  would  it  have  been  well  for 
my  friends  to  have  believed  that  I  was  on  terms  of  inti- 
macy with  him.  About  two  years,  or  thereabouts,  after 
the  events  had  occurred  that  I  have  narrated,  I  was 
grieved,  but  I  cannot  say,  much  astonished,  to  learn  that 
a  separation  had  taken  place  between  Marsden  and  his 
wife ;  she  had  gone  home  to  her  friends  a  ruined  and 
heart-broken  woman ;  for  she  had  been  so  infatuated  as 
to  make  no  settlement  of  any  portion  of  her  property 
upon  herself,  and  all  had  been  recklessly  squandered. 
Marsden,  I  learnt,  had  furbished  up  his  medical  acquire- 
ments, and  on  the  strength  of  them  and  his  proofs  of 
having  studied  medicine  at  Harvard  University,  he  had 
managed  to  procure  a  berth  as  surgeon  on  board  a  vessel 
bound  from  Boston  to  India. 

Two  or  three  years  passed  away,  and  I  heard  no  more 
of  him.  I  had  the  curiosity,  when  the  vessel  he  had 
sailed  in  returned  from  India,  to  write  to  Boston,  to  learn 
whether  he  had  returned  on  board  of  her ;  but  I  received 
a  letter  from  the  friend  whom  I  had  commissioned  to 
make  the  inquiry,  stating  that  the  captain  had  told  him 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

that  Marsden  had  drawn  what  money  was  due  to  him  in 
India,  and  indeed  a  considerable  advance,  and  under  pre- 
tence of  going  on  an. excursion  a  few  miles  in  the  coun- 
try, had  left  the  ship  intentionally,  or  something  had  hap- 
pened to  him  ;  but  although  every  inquiry  had  been  in- 
stituted, nothing  could  be  learnt  regarding  his  fate. 

Knowing  his  reckless  habits,  I  had  given  him  up  as 
dead,  when  a  young  friend  of  mine  who  was  chief  officer 
of  an  Indiaman,  paid  me  a  visit  at  New  York,  on  his  re- 
turn from  a  voyage  to  the  East,  and  casually  mentioning 
Marsden's  name  one  day,  (my  friend  had  been  acquainted 
with  him  when  at  Harvard)  he  told  me  that  he  had  met 
him  hawking  about  samples  of  tea  in  Calcutta ;  that 
Marsden  had  attempted  to  avoid  him,  but  he  was  deter- 
mined to  speak  to  him,  and  shortly  afterwards  meeting 
him  again  employed  in  the  same  avocation,  near  the 
"  Chandpaul  Ghaut,"  he  had  abruptly  addressed  him, 
in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  not  help  but  recognize 
him.  Marsden  then  gave  him  his  address,  at  an  obscure 
locality  between  the  white  and  native  cities  called  "  Go- 
reahmah  Tollah ;"  but  on  making  inquiry  at  the  place 
designated,  he  found  that  he  had  been  deceived.  About 
twelve  months  after  this,  I  again  casually  learnt  that  he 
had  been  recognized  by  some  one  who  had  known  him 
in  Boston,  engaged  in  the  capacity  of  a  schoolmaster,  in 
the  house  of  a  Parsee  merchant,  whose  children  he  was 
instructing  in  the  English  language ;  but  as,  unfortunate- 
ly, as  in  former  days,  in  our  classical  schools,  whatever  it 
may  be  at  present,  and  I  fear  it  is  not  greatly  improved 
for  the  better,  far  too  little  attention  was  paid  while  study- 
ing Virgil  and  Horace,  to  the  simple  rules  of  the  English 
grammar ;  Marsden,  although  like  all  well  educated  men, 
a  correct  speaker  from  habit,  was  by  no  means  a  theoreti- 
cal grammarian,  and  as  the  educated  Parsees  are  noted 
for  their  correctness  in  the  rudiments  of  education,  he  had 
been  dismissed  from  what  had  been  really  a  remunerative 
employment,  on  account  of  his  having,  in  the  hearing 
of  the  father  of  his  pupils,  falsely  parsed  a  sentence  ot 
English  grammar. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOUBNAL.  175 

I  cannot  say  how  long  a  period  had  elapsed,  but  it 
must  have  been  three  years  at  least,  before  I  again  heard 
aught  of  my  old  college  chum.  And  in  the  multitudi- 
nous cares  of  business  and  an  increasing  family,  his  ex- 
istence was  well  nigh  forgotten,  when,  one  day,  in  pass- 
ing up  Market- street,  Philadelphia,  whither  I. had  gone 
on  business,  a  well-known  voice  attracted  my  attention, 
hailing  passengers  for  a  hack-stage  which  traversed  that 
leading  thoroughfare  of  the  Quaker  city,  (it  was  before 
the  era  of  omnibuses)  I  turned  my  head,  and  sure 
enough — I  could  not  be — I  was  not  mistaken — there  was 
my  old  college  chum,  Edward  Marsden,  seated  on  a  coach- 
box, striving  with  others  for  a  fare.  I  had  no  particular 
business  with  a  coach ;  but  I  determined  to  engage  that 
one.  So,  without  allowing  him  to  recognize  me,  I  got 
in,  and  ordered  him,  in  a  feigned  voice,  to  drive  to  a 
place  some  miles  distant,  beyond  the  confines  of  the  city. 

On  arriving  at  the  village  I  had  designated,  I  alighted, 
and  entering  the  tavern,  called  for  a  private  room,  and 
then  desired  the  landlord  to  send  the  driver  to  me,  as 
though  I  wished  to  pay  him  his  fare,  cr  give  him  fresh 
orders  respecting  my  return  to  the  city. 

He  came  into  the  room,  and  I  immediately  stepped  up 
to  him,  and  taking  him  by  the  hand,  said,  "  Is  it  possible! 
Can  this  be  Edward  Marsden?" 

He  blushed  until  the  blood  dyed  his  swarthy,  unshaven 
cheeks  a  deep  red,  stammered  confusedly,  and  at  length 

said,  "  it  is ;  and  you  are  Dr. .  I  saw  you  yesterday 

and  recognized  you ;  but  for  reasons  yon  may  well  ima- 
gine, avoided  you." 

"  But  how  in  the  name  of  wonder  do  I  see  you  thus? 
Surely  a  man  of  your  talents  and  acquirements,  however 
reduced  he  may  become  by  the  fluctuations  of  fortune, 
should  rise  again  to  a  more  congenial  position  than  that 
in  which  I  now  find  you  ?" 

"  Fallen  in  fortune !  Rise  again !"  he  replied,  while  a 
sardonic  sneer  overspread  his  features  and  gave  a  shock- 
ingly sinister  expression  to  his  countenance,  which  was 
seared  by  the  Knes  marked  by  intemperance  and  reck- 


176  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

lessness  now  grown  habitual.  "  Rise  again !  How  can 
a  man  rise  again  when  he  has  lost  character,  caste,  his 
good  name  and  fame,  the  sympathy  of  his  friends — all, 
everything  I  How  can  a  man  rise  again  when  the  pow- 
ers of  heaven,  earth  and  hell  have  conspired  to  crush 
him,  and  to  render  him  a  noxious,  crawling  reptile,  ra- 
ther than  a  being  formed  after  God's  own  image,  as  the 
parsons  cantingly  say?  How  can  a  man  rise  from  the 
slough  of  despair  when  he  has  no  means  of  staving  off 
the  pangs  of  hunger,  save  the  few  cents  he  may  chance 
to  glean  by  labor  and  exposure  from  daylight  until 
midnight,  and  then  be  compelled  by  the  pressure  of  cir- 
cumstances to  rest, — if  rest  it  can  be  termed — amidst  the 
vilest  of  the  vile  in  the  sneaking  abodes  of  penury  and 

vice.     Rise  again !     James  ,  you  will  excuse  my 

familiarity,  I  know  and  feel  it  is  out  of  place  now;  but 
this  meeting  has  recalled  to  my  mind  too  forcibly  the 
memories  of  other  days,  and  compelled  me  to  recollect 
what  I  strive  to  forget,  the  knowledge  of  what  I  might 
have  been,  what  I  now  am,  and  what  I  am  doomed  to  be 
henceforward,  until  my  carcase  is  borne  to  some  '  Potter's 
Field '  without  a  friend  or  mourner  to  see  it  deposited 
even  in  that  outcast  burial  place,  or  perhaps  dragged 
from  the  river  into  whose  waters  I  should  be  doing  mercy 
to  myself  and  to  mankind  by  ridding  the  world  of  my 
presence." 

While  thus  speaking,  his  countenance  and  his  voice 
had  resumed  something  of  the  appearance  and  tone  of 
former  days;  but  they  again  assumed  their  dejected  reck- 
less, devil-may-care,  despairing  look  and  tone,  as  he 
raised  his  voice  in  conclusion,  and  added,  "  Rise  again  ! 

Doctor ,  do  you  want  to  drive  me  mad  quicker  than 

fate  is  doing.  Ha !  ha !  can  the  arch  fiend  that  priests 
tell  us  of  rise  again  from  the  depths  of  hell  to  which  he 
has  been  consigned.  My  fare  is  seventy-five  cents ;  you 
must  find  some  other  conveyance  to  carry  you  back  to 
Philadelphia." 

I,  however,  would  not  allow  him  to  quit  me  thus ;  and 
at  length,  after  considerable  difficulty,  I  managed  to  gain 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  177 

the  mastery  over  his  better  feelings,  and  prevailed  upon 
him  to  accompany  me  to  New  York,  promising  to  put 
him  in  the  way  of  doing  something  to  gain  a  living,  more 
consonant  with  his  education  and  natural  talent. 

"  I  can  apply  myself  to  nothing,"  he  said  to  me  as  we 
were  on  our  way  to  New  York ;  for  I  had  determined 
not  to  lose  sight  of  him,  and  had  provided  him  with  an 
outfit  at  a  ready-made  clothing  store  in  Philadelphia; 
"I  never  take  a  book  in  my  hand,  and  have  not  touched 
pen  for  years.  Brandy  is  my  solace  and  the  only  friend 
I  have,  for  when  its  fames  madden  my  brain,  then — then 
only  do  I  thoroughly  forget  my  misery." 

We  arrived  in  New  York ;  and  at  his  urgent  request, 
keeping  his  presence  in  the  city  unknown  even  to  my 
own  family,  I  procured  him  decent  private  lodgings,  and 
attended  him  professionally  until  his  broken  constitution 
was  as  much  restored  as  ever  it  could  be ;  for  the  re-action 
consequent  on  his  change  of  habits,  although  those  habits 
were  greatly  for  the  better,  had  thrown  him  into  a  fever, 
and  at  one  time  I  despaired  of  his  life.  At  length  he 
recovered  and  gave  promise  that  with  care  his  constitu- 
tion might  be  so  far  restored  as  to  give  him  yet  many 
years  of  life  and  comparative  health,  for  he  was  still  a 
young  man ;  and  when  he  was  able  to  apply  himself  to 
business  I  got  him  a  situation  as  clerk  in  a  store.  For 
some  weeks  he  was  all  that  I  could  have  desired ;  but 
his  vices  were  constitutional,  and  should  have  been  cor- 
rected in  early  youth.  I  found  I  might  as  well  attempt 
to  train  the  growth  of  the  gnarled  oak  as  to  turn  him 
from  the  evil  tenor  of  his  ways.  Those  which  at  first 
had  been  mere  venial  faults,  which  might  have  been 
curbed  if  not  entirely  eradicated,  had  now  become  ha- 
bitual vices ;  and  his  spendthiift  habits,  only  sins  against 
himself  when  he  had  the  means  of  gratifying  them,  had 
now  assumed  such  permanency  that  to  indulge  them  he 
scrupled  not  to  resort  to  crime. 

He  had  been  about  six  weeks  in  his  new  employment, 
when  one  evening  a  ring  at  my  door  bell  brought  the 

8* 


178  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

footman  into  the  parlor,  for  at  that  time  I  had  arrived  at 
the  dignity  of  keeping  a  man-servant. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  a  person  wishes  to  see  you  private- 
ly,"  said  the  servant. 

"  "Who  or  what  is  he?"  said  I. 

"He  would  not  give  his  name,  sir,  and  appears  highly 
excited.  I  think  he  is  either  drank  or  mad,"  was  the 
reply. 

I  was  somewhat  doubtful  as  to  the  propriety  of  seeing 
this  man,  but  at  length  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
would  do  so,  and  I  directed  the  servant  to  show  him  into 
a  private  apartment,  whither  I  followed  him.  My  visitor 
was  Edward  Marsden,  and  I  was  deeply  grieved  to  see 
that  he  was  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  not  so  much  so. 
however,  as  to  confuse  his  ideas ;  but  he  was  excited  in 
a  very  high  degree. 

"  Well,  James,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  I  had  closed  the 
door,  "  this  is  the  way  in  which  I  thank  you  for  your 
kindness.  You  know  the  old  proverb — '  Set  a  beggar 

on  horseback,'  &c.  All's  up  with  me  at  K 's,  and 

I've  got  my  mittimus.  I've  come  to  say  '  good  bye,'  and 
then  I'm  off,  the  d — 1  knows  where.  Any  way,  you 
needn't  follow  me  or  inquire  after  me.  You'd  better  not, 
any  way,"  he  added,  with  a  menacing  look. 

"  What  has  been  the  matter  ?"  I  said,  for  I  saw  it  was 
useless  to  exasperate  him,  or  to  reply  to  him  in  terms  of 
harshness,  in  his  then  excited  state. 

"  Matter  enough — I'm  discharged  incurable,  that's  all. 
You'll  know  more,  by-and-bye.  A  pretty  recommen- 
dation you  gave  to  old  K when  you  got  him  to  place 

trust  in  me." 

I  could  get  nothing  furt'ier  from  him,  and  after  mut- 
tering several  incoherent  phrases,  for  the  liquor  he  had 
imbibed  was  now  beginning  to  take  more  effect,  he  left 
the  house.  I  followed  him  at  a  distance  and  saw  him 
enter  his  lodging  house,  when  I  returned  home. 

The  next  day,  while  making  my  calls,  I  called  in  at 
Mr.  K 's,  the  gentleman  who  at  my  request  had  em- 
ployed him,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  the  difficulty. 


STB  AY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  179 

The  old  gentleman  received  me  gruffly  enough,  and 
though  I  had  told  enough  of  his  former  history  to  rendei 
the  storekeeper  cautious,  at  least  for  some  time,  as  to 
how  he  trusted  him,  I  had  enough  to  do  to  satisfy  him, 
as  it  appeared,  that  I  was  not  privy  to  his  vices,  while 
the  fact  was  I  did  not  think,  despite  all  he  had  told  me, 
that  he  had  been  guilty  of  what  the  world  designates  as 
crime. 

At  length  the  old  gentleman  was  somewhat  mollified. 
"  The  fellow,"  he  said,  "  after  the  first  three  weeks,  be- 
gan to  show  symptoms  of  drinking,  and  the  day  before 
yesterday,  I  found,  on  watching  him,  that  small  sums  of 
money  which  for  some  time  past  had  been  missing  from 
the  till,- were  taken  by  him  and  spent  in  the  indulgence 
of  his  bestial  propensities ;  but  for  my  respect  for  you  I 
would  have  caused  him  to  be  arrested.  As  it  is,  I  have 
discharged  him,  and  that  without  his  wages." 

I  left  the  house,  deeply  grieved,  and  the  sad  affair 
made  me  low-spirited  all  day.  On  reaching  home  in  the 
evening,  I  found  a  note  from  his  landlady,  whose  security 
I  was,  for  his  board  and  lodging,  stating  that  Mr.  Mars- 
den  was  lying  in  bed  laboring  under  delirium  trernens, 
and  that  she,  fearing  he  was  dying,  requested  my  imme- 
diate attendance. 

I  was  thoroughly  shocked,  and  I  went  immediately  to 
the  boarding  house.  On  seeing  my  patient,  I  found  the 
landlady's  words  were  too  true.  Edward  Marsden  was 
laboring  under  delirium  tremens,  and  in  his  enfeebled 
state  of  body,  I  foresaw  at  once  that  the  attack  would  be 
fatal.  He  was  unconscious,  and  was  alternately  lying 
on  the  bed,  tearing  his  hair  and  uttering  the  vilest  and 
most  incoherent  blasphemies,  or  walking  excitedly  about 
the  apartment,  singing  and  laughing  wildly. 

"Are  you  a  policeman?"  he  said;  "but  you  havn't 
got  me  yet,"  and  he  seized  hold  of  the  poker,  and  stood 
in  a  menacing  attitude. 

I  have  always  found  in  these  cases,  as  in  every  other 
species  of  insanity,  the  best  plan  was  to  humor  the  patient, 
and,  at  least,  appear  cool  and  undismayed.  I  therefore 


180  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

replied — "  Do  you  not  know  me,  Edward.  I  am  your 

old  friend,  James .  It's  a  good  idea  of  yours  to  take 

me  for  a  policeman." 

"  What  a  fool  I  am,"  he  said,  advancing  towards  me, 
and  putting  his  burning,  trembling  hand  in  mine.  "  But 
they'll  come  soon.  I  -must  be  off.  Won't  you  help  to 
keep  them  off,  doctor  ?  By  Jove,  they  won't  take  me 
alive." 

I  got  him  composed  in  some  degree,  and  then  admin- 
istered brandy  and  laudanum,  and  he  fell  into  a  lethargic 
stupor.  While  I  was  still  sitting  by  the  bedside  watch- 
ing him,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  starting,  after  tell- 
ing the  landlady  to  send  for  me  should  he  become  in  any 
degree  wakeful,  or  if  any  alteration  should  take  place, 
and  promising  to  call  in  the  morning,  when  there  was  a 
sound  of  feet  on  the  stairs,  and  a  knock  at  the  room  door. 
I  opened  it,  and  a  couple  of  officers  entered  the  room. 

"  Our  business,"  said  the  chief,  "  is  with  Edward  Mars- 
den,  we  hold  a  warrant  for  his  arrest  for  forgery." 

"  Forgery  !     Upon  whom?" 

"  Upon  Mr.  R ,  to  the  amount  of  $900.  He  must 

go  with  us  to  the  lock-up  till  morning." 

"  But  you  cannot  take  him  from  the  house  in  his  pre- 
sent condition ;  to  attempt  to  remove  him  would  cause 
his  instant  death.  I  will  go  bail  for  his  appearance  when 
called  for." 

"  We  have  no  authority  to  take  bail,"  said  the  officer, 
"  but  if  you  will  give  my  companion  a  certificate  to  the 
effect  that  the  prisoner  is  not  in  a  condition  to  be  removed, 
he  will  take  it  to  the  magistrate,  and  I  will  remain  here 
during  the  night." 

To  this  I.  acceded,  and  was  drawing  up  the  certificate 
when  Marsden  awakened  from  his  troubled  sleep,  and 
seeing  the  policemen  in  the  room,  sprang  wildly  from  his 
bed,  and  before  any  one  had  any  conception  of  his  inten- 
tions, he  had  opened  the  window  and  sprang  into  the 
street,  from  the  height  of  three  stories.  He  was  killed 
instantly,  and  the  mandate  of  the  law  was  served  upon 
a  senseless  corpse.  It  was  true  that  he  had  committed 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  181 

the  forgery,  and  the  money  was  found  in  his  packed 
trunk.  It  had  doubtless  been  his  intention  to  have  fled 
that  night,  had  not  the  demon  of  drunkenness  impeded 
his  progress  and  hastened  his  unhappy  end. 

Thus  perished  one  who  had  talents  and  education  to 
have  worked  his  way  to  eminence,  but  who  had  never 
been  able  to  control  the  vice  of  extravagance,  partly 
natural,  and  uncurbed  in  early  youth. 


182  THE  QLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  ECCENTRIC. A  CHARACTER  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 

WHILE  living  near  the  Battery,  during  the  early  part 
of  my  practice,  I  had  often  noticed  an  old  gentleman, 
whose  sole  occupation  seemed  to  be  to  con  over  the  con- 
tents of  an  old  book-stall  which  was  kept  by  a  Scotchman 
in  that  neighborhood.  No  matter  what  the  weather, 
summer  or  winter,  fine  or  cloudy,  aye,  even  rainy,  I  sel- 
dom passed  in  the  morning  on  my  way  up  town,  that  I 
did  not  observe  this  old  fellow,  spectacles  on  nose,  eagerly 
thumbing  the  dilapidated  and  venerable  lore  for  which 
the  stall  was  notea ;  for  the  keeper  prided  himself  on 
being  an  antiquarian,  and  if  ancient  tomes  out  of  print, 
and  long  ago  forgotten  by  the  world,  were  to  be  found 
anywhere,  they  were  to  be  procured  at  old  M'Tavish's 
stall.  Being  somewhat  addicted  to  taking  up  any  book 
which  lay  before  me  myself,  and  curiously  looking  into 
its  contents,  I  often  stopped  a  minute  or  two  while  on  my 
way  to  business,  especially  of  a  fine  morning  when  I  was 
tempted  abroad  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  and  we  gradu- 
ally grew  to  acknowledge  a  sort  of  passing  acquaintance, 
on  my  part,  generally  a  nod  and  a  cheerful  "  good  morn- 
ing," but  on  the  part  of  the  old  gentleman  a  grunt,  as  if 
it  came  from  the  husky  throat  of  a  bear  ;  and  to  see  him 
as  he  stood,  his  brown  scratch  wig  showing  beneath  his 
old  fashioned  three-cornered  cocked  hat,  his  long  skirted, 
snuff-colored  coat,  and  his  indispensables  of  the  same 
hue,  finished  off  by  worsted  stockings  and  buckled  shoes, 
added  to  his  hatchet  face  and  protruding  chin,  and 
sunken  mouth,  which  betokened  age  more  than  any  other 
part  of  his  person,  for  he  was  brisk  enough  in  his  move- 
ments, and  his  eyes,  despite  his  spectacles,  which  he  looked 
over  instead  of  through,  were  bright,  keen  and  restless 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  183 

as  those  of  an  eagle,  he  looked  the  impersonation  of  an 
old  miserly  bibliopole  of  the  past  generation. 

One  day  having  made  a  purchase  of  some  antique  vol 
ume,  when,  for  a  wonder,  the  old  gentleman  was  not 
present,  I  asked  the  keeper  of  the  stall  who  his  constant 
visiter  was,  and  whether  he  was  a  profitable  customer  ? 

"  Ye  ken  aboot  as  muckle  o'  him  as  I  do  mysel,"  re- 
turned the  man;  "I  dinna  ken  who  he  is,  but  he  spends 
hours,  almost  every  day,  at  my  stall,  thumbing  over  every 
volume  on  the  shelves,  and  often  reading  whole  pages 
where  onything  interests  him.  As  to  his  being  a  good 
customer,  he's  weel  eneuch  for  that,  mair  especially  when 
I  get  a  fresh  supply  of  auld  beuks  fra  my  brither  in  Ed- 
inbro'.  Sometimes  he  buys  the  whole  stock  ;  but  at  other 
times  he  comes  as  you  see  to  the  stall,  and  thumbs  them 
over  just.  I  fancy  he  kens  by  heart  maist  every  line  of 
the  standing  stock  c'  my  wares." 

This  was  all  I  could  glean  from  M'Tavish,  and  the  next 
day  the  old  man  was  at  the  stall  as  usual,  but  he  was 
closely  muffled  about  the  throat,  and,  while  passing,  I 
heard  a  hoarse  cough,  showing  the  cause  of  his  unwonted 
change  of  attire. 

For  some  days  he  was  absent  from  his  usual  post,  but 
the  next  time  I  saw  him  there  I  stopped  and  noticed  the 
same  dry,  hoarse,  hacking  cough. 

I  determined  to  address  him  on  the  subject,  for  the 
morning  was  damp,  and  quite  unfitted  for  an  aged  inva- 
lid to  be  abroad,  especially  to  be  standing  in  one  spot,  as 
he  was,  as  usual,  intent  upon  the  books. 

"  You  appear  to  have  a  bad  cough,  sir?"  I  said  inter- 
rogatively. 

"  Humph,"  was  his  brief  reply ;  as  I  understood  the 
tone,  affirmatively. 

"  Surely  this  is  an  unfit  morning  for  you  to  be  abroad 
in,"  I  added. 

"  And  who  may  have  given  you  the  right  to  say  when 
it's  fit  for  me  to  be  abroad,  pray  ?  Who  are  you?" 

"  The  question  may  well  be  asked,"  I  said,  with  a  smile, 
*'  for,  though  for  well  nigh  two  years  we  have  exchanged 


184  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

greetings  of  a  morning,  I  believe  this  is  the  longest  con- 
versation we  have  ever  held  together.  I  am  a  physician, 
sir,  Dr. ,  residing  in  this  neighborhood,  and,  there- 
fore, from  my  profession,  I  flatter  myself  capable  of 
judging  when  it  is  proper  for  an  invalid  to  be  abroad." 

"  Humph — a  physician  !  I  thought  as  much ;  and  you 
want  to  get  me  under  your  hands,  eh  ! — found  you  out  ? 
— I  don't  like  doctors — physic — all  humbug.  It's  doctors 
fill  the  churchyards,"  and  so  saying,  the  old  man  pored 
more  deeply  into  the  book  he  was  perusing  when  I  came 
up,  and  deigned  no  further  conversation. 

He  was  now  absent  oftener  than  usual,  and  when  I  did 
see  him  at  his  accustomed  spot,  the  cough  which  troubled 
him  still  lingered,  and  evidently  gave  him  some  alarm ; 
for  he  glanced  furtively  at  me,  and  often  seemed  as  though 
he  would  have  spoken,  but  desired  me  first  to  break  the 
ice ;  but  I  had  received  such  a  rebuff  when  I  ventured  to 
speak  to  him  before,  that  I  determined  he  should  address 
me  first.  One  day,  after  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  he 
said: 

"  You  seem  young  in  your  business,  and  havn't  learnt 
yet  half  the  humbug  of  your  elders ;  you  can  come  to 
my  house  if  you  like,  at  10  o'clock  to-morrow,  and  per- 
haps you  can  give  me  something  to  cure  me  of  this 
plaguey  cough,  the  only  sickness  I  have  ever  had  in  my 
life — not  that  I  believe  you  will  though — get  what  money 
you  can  from  me — that's  all ;"  so  saying,  he  took  out  an 
old  pocket-book  that  might  have  vied  in  antiquity  with 
the  most  ancient  tome  on  my  friend  M'Tavish's  stall,  and 
writing  his  name  and  address  on  a  blank  leaf,  he  tore  it 
out  and  gave  it  to  me. 

Willing  to  humor  the  old  man,  I  took  it  good  temper- 
edly,  notwithstanding  the  brusque  manner  in  which  it 
was  offered,  and  the  offensive  expressions  which  accom- 
panied it,  and  bowing  a  good  morning,  passed  on  my 
way. 

As  I  walked  up  Broadway,  I  glanced  at  the  leaf  and 

read  the  address — Mr. ,  No.  —  Maiden  Lane,  and 

recognized  in  the  name  one  of  the  reputed  wealthy  men 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  185 

of  the  city  ;  an  old  bachelor  of  eccentric  habits,  who  kept 
no  company,  but  lived  a  perfectly  retired  life,  only  hav- 
ing a  housekeeper,  said  to  be  as  eccentric  as  her  master, 
to  look  after  his  household. 

The  next  morning,  punctual  to  my  appointment,  I 
called  at  the  house.  It  was  an  old  building  long  since 
pulled  down,  displaying  no  outward  pretensions  to  wealth 
or  even  comfort,  and  having  before  the  lower  part  a  piazza 
with  wooden  jalousies,  reached  by  mounting  a  high,  old 
fashioned  Dutch  stoop. 

On  knocking  at  the  door,  it  was  opened  by  a  vinegar- 
faced  housekeeper,  of  prim  and  staid  aspect,  who  an- 
swered my  inquiry,  "  Does  Mr.  W reside  here?" 

by  propounding  another : 

"  Who  may  you  be  ?"  said  she. 

"  I  am  Dr. ,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  have  called  at  the 

request  of  Mr.  W.,  whom  I  met  yesterday." 

"Come  in,"  she  said,  and  left  me  standing  in  the  pas- 
sage, while  she  went  up  stairs,  as  I  imagined,  to  her 
master's  private  apartment. 

A  long  conversation  appeared  to  take  place  between 
the  two — for  I  must  have  waited  fully  ten  minutes,  and 
began  to  grow  weary,  when  the  prim  mob  cap  appeared 
over  the  balustrade  above,  an'd  a  shrill  voice  squealed 
out: 

"  You  can  come  up  ;  but  see  and  wipe  your  feet  dry 
on  the  mat,  and  don't  dirt  the  stairs." 

I  ascended  the  old  fashioned  stairs  as  requested ;  not 
without  remarking  that  every  article  of  furniture  wore 
the  appearance  of  being  at  least  half  a  century  old.  I 
was  ushered  into  a  large  dingy-looking,  but  even  pain- 
fully neat  room,  by  the  house-keeper,  and  immediately 
confronted  my  old  acquaintance,  seated  before  the  fire, 
diligently  perusing  an  old  mouldy,  moth-eaten  volume, 
which  I  recognized  as  one  of  the  late  importations  of  my 
antiquarian  friend,  McTavish. 

"  So,  you've  come  ?"  was  the  greeting  of  the  old  gen 
tleman,  as  he  consulted  a  large  turnip-shaped  gold  watch, 
which  now  a-days  would  attract  curiosity,  were  it  placed 


186  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

for  exhibition  in  Barnum's  Museum.  "  Ten  minutes  be- 
hind your  time ;  I  like  young  people  to  be  punctual. — 
They  were  also  so  in  my  time." 

I  explained  that  I  had  been  kept  waiting  full  ten 
minutes  in  the  passage  below,  while  the  house-keeper 
announced  my  presence,  and  that  the  clock  had  struck 
ten  as  I  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Aye,"  said  he,  "  those  women  folks  will  clatter  and 
chatter  and  know  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  everything  ; 
but  what  are  you  standing  there  for,  gaping  like  a  sim- 
pleton. I  sent  for  you  to  cure  my  cough,  if  you  can. — 
Take  a  chair,  man." 

Amused  at  the  old  gentleman's  eccentric  behavior,  de- 
spite his  rudeness,  I  did  as  he  desired.  After  asking  a 
few  questions,  which  he  answered  gruffly  enough,  I  sat- 
isfied myself  that  his  cough  would  easily  give  way  to 
proper  remedies,  and  indeed  that  it  would  perhaps  long 
ago  have  subsided,  but  for  his  imprudence  and  exposure 
to  the  weather. 

I  sat  for  a  few  moments  chatting,  or  rather  endeavor- 
ing to  draw  the  old  gentleman  into  conversation;  but  to 
no  purpose.  As  soon  as  he  had  replied  to  my  questions, 
he  again  referred  to  his  book,  and  I  noticed  that  the  walls 
of  the  apartment  were  covered  with  book-shelves,  all 
stored  with  like  antiquated  volumes,  but  in  perfect  keep- 
ing with  the  ancient,  dark,  polished  furniture  and  the  air 
of  antiquity  that  pervaded  the  room.  The  volume  he 
was  perusing,  I  observed,  from  the  large,  faded,  gilt  let- 
ters on  the  back,  was  a  treatise  on  marriage,  by  some 
learned  man  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Bather  a  strange 
work  I  thought,  to  so  deeply  interest  such  a  faded  piece 
of  antiquity  as  my  patient.  I  then  rose  to  go,  saying 
that  I  would  send  round  some  medicine  which  I  had  no 
doubt  would  afford  him  relief,  and  that  in  a  lew  days  he 
would  be  quite  well. 

I  did  not  call  the  next  day ;  but  on  the  following 
morning  I  stopped  at  the  door  as  I  was  passing  by,  and 
passed  in  with  the  house-keeper,  who  had  been  out  for 
some  purpose.  I  did  not  wait  to  have  my  name  an- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  187 

nounced,  but  immediately  went  up  to  the  room  I  had 
seen  my  patient  in  on  the  former  visit,  heedless  of  the 
scowls  and  mutterings  of  the  abigail.  I  tapped  gently 
at  the  door  of  the  apartment,  and  the  well  known  gruff 
voice  cried : 

"Come  in." 

I  entered. 

"Ah !  it's  you,  is  it — got  no  more  of  your  quack  medi- 
cine, eh?  Throw  it  out  of  the  window  if  you  have." 

I  was  astonished  not  so  much  at  this  salutation  as  that 
the  medicine  I  had  sent,  had  afforded  no  relief  to  the 
cough,  which  I  perceived  was  no  better. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  I,  "that  the  cough  mixture  I  sent 
you,  did  not  afford  you  relief." 

"  Did  doctor's  stuff  ever  afford  relief  to  any  body  ?" 
was  the  surly  reply. 

To  this  I  said  merely : 

"  Did  you  take  it  in  flaxseed  tea,  according  to  the  di- 
rections ?" 

"Flaxseed  tea!  What  next?  Quackery  I  I  didn't  take 
the  stuff  at  all.  There  are  the  bottles.  Their  contents 
were  emptied  in  the  slop-bowl." 

Although  somewhat  annoyed  at  the  contumacy  of  the 
old  gentleman,  and  at  the  summary  disposal  of  my  medi- 
cine, I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  idea  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman grumbling  because  medicine  so  disposed  of,  had 
done  him  no  good.  Although  the  cough  was  not  now  of 
a  dangerous  character,  I  was  well  aware  that  if  it  were 
not  relieved,  it  might  soon  become  so.  I  therefore  de- 
termined to  work  upon  his  fears,  and  told  him  that  I 
would  not  be  accountable  for  the  consequences,  if  he 
still  continued  obstinately  to  reject  advice  and  refuse 
proper  medicine. 

"  Eh  !  what !"  said  he.  "  The  consequences  !  What 
consequences  ?  It's  only  a  cough  ;  there's  no  danger.  I 
am  whole  and  sound.  Only  sixty-four  years  of  age,  and 
never  had  a  cough  or  an  hour's  sickness  before." 

"There  is  certainly  no  danger  at  present,"  said  1, 
11  and  your  cough  will  yield  to  proper  treatment ;  but  the 


188  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

fact  that  you  have  a  sound  constitution,  and  have 
been  blessed  through  life  with  good  health,  is  in  itself 
liable  to  render  you  careless,  and  surely  I  need  not  in- 
form you  that  a  cough  neglected,'  is  always  dangerous." 

"  Well,"  replied  my  patient,  "send  me  some  more  of 
your  medicine,  and  this  time  Mrs.  Standish  shall  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  will  have  it  all  my  own  way." 

I  wished  the  old  gentleman  "good  morning,"  and  was 
proceeding  down  stairs,  when  he  called  me  back  and 
said : 

"  Doctor,  can't  I  go  down  to  the  old  bookstall  for  an 
hour  ?" 

"By  no  means,"  I  replied,  "if  you  wish  speedily  to 
get  rid  of  your  cough." 

"  Well,  then,  if  it  must  be  so,  will  you  ask  M'Tavish 
if  he  has  found  the1  third  volume  of  this  '  Treatise  on 
Marriage,  by  a  learned  physician  of  the  sixteenth  centu- 
ry,' and  if  he  has,  bring  it  with  you  next  time  you  call?" 

"  I  will,"  I  replied,  willing  to  oblige  the  eccentric  old 
gentleman  as  far  as  I  was  able. 

Two  days  afterwards  I  again  called  at  the  house,  with 
the  odd  volume  which  M'Tavish  had  hunted  up,  and 
found  my  patient,  as  I  expected,  if  he  obeyed  my  injunc- 
tions, almost  wholly  relieved  of  his  distressing  cough, 
and  consequently  much  more  inclined  to  converse  with 
some  degree  of  civility  than  I  had  before  seen  him.  My 
having  brought  him  the  book  he  was  anxious  for,  also 
operated  in  my  favor  considerably,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man, for  the  time  being,  at  least,  strove  to  banish  the 
"  bear"  from  his  manners. 

"  You  are  the  first  physician,  I  believe,  who  ever  gave 
a  patient  any  real  relief,"  said  he,  "  a  parcel  of  greedy 
money  hunters  as  they  are  generally — not  you,  mind — 
but  perhaps,"  he  continued,  as  if  to  qualify  the  last  com- 
pliment, "perhaps  you  may  have  some  stuff  which 
might  be  beneficial  to  a  cough,  though  you  could  be  of 
no  service  in  any  other  sickness." 

I  replied  that  I  hoped  he  would  nevei  give  me  any 
opportunity  of  testing  my  skill  as  regarded  himself;  but 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  189 

that  I  trusted  I  might  be  found  quite  as  useful,  even  in 
other  disorders. 

"  Humph  !"  was  the  only  word  he  uttered  in  reply. — 
For  some  minutes  he  sat  quiet,  and  I  would  have  quitted 
the  room  had  I  not  perceived  that  he  had  something  to 
say  to  me,  and  I  waited  to  give  him  the  opportunity  of 
saying  it  in  his  own  way. 

"  Dr. ,"  at  length  he  said,  "  I  believe  you  to  be  a 

young  man  of  discretion.  I  thought  so  when  I  saw  you 
stop  so  often  at  the  old  bookstall.  By  the  bye,  what 
age  may  you  be?" 

I  smiled  at  the  strange  patronizing  way  of  the  old 
gentleman,  and  replied : 

"  I  am  a  few  months  over  thirty  years." 

"  Humph  !  and  are  you  married  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  and  have  two  children." 

"  Too  young  sir,  too  young  by  thirty,  or  at  least  twenty 
years,  for  marriage.  Hear  what  the  learned  Godolphin 
says.  Oh !  sir,  there  were  physicians  on  the  earth  in  the 
days  when  Godolphin  wrote — not  the  mere  empirics,  sir, 
of  the  present  day.  I  will  read  you  the  extract :  "  Go- 
dolphin's  Treatise  on  Marriage.  Tome  2d,  chap.  16, 
page  301."  "And  being  in  full  vigour  of  mynde  and 
bodye,  not  given  to  debaucheries,  or  synneful  lusttes,  or 
gluttonies  or  other  Vices,  I  should  advise  that  the  age  of 
sixty  or  thereabouts,  be  the  proper  age  for  a  man  to  take 
to  hymselffe  a  wyffe.  For  at  thatte  ripe  age,  man  hath 
caste  asyde  hys  follyes,  and  beginneth  to  seek  after  wys- 
dom.  Hys  bodye  and  mynde  having  arrived  at  perfect 
maturity." 

"Now,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  having  read  the 
paragraph  aloud  to  me,  "  now,  I  fully  agree  with  the 
learned  and  excellent  author,  and  decidedly  object  to  boys 
of  thirty  or  young  men  of  forty-five,  or  even  fifty,  assum- 
ing the  responsibility  of  the  married  condition ;  besides, 
sir,  it  is  calculated  to  lead  to  over  population,  and  to  a 
consequent  state  of  things  which  ifc  is  horrible  even  tc 
contemplate  ;  but  at  my  age  a  man  may  honorablv  enter 
into  the  holy  sacrament.  In  fact,  doctor,  I  am  thinking 


190  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

,** 

of  getting  married  myself.  Mrs.  Standish  I  know  will 
oppose  it ;  but  my  mind  is  made  up,  especially  since  I 
have  read  these  invaluable  old  volumes,  and  as  I  have  kept 
aloof  from  all  company,  I  want  some  one  as  a  confidant. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  project  ?" 

I  replied,  that,  as  the  learned  Godolphin  would,  no 
doubt,  say,  he  was  now  arrived  at  an  age  of  maturity, 
when  his  own  judgment  was  likely  to  prove  the  soundest, 
but  as  I  had  always  been  an  advocate  for  matrimony,  and 
after  several  years  experience  had  seen  no  reason  to  change 
my  mind,  I  could  only  say  "better  late  than  never," and 
also  added  that  anything  I  could  do  to  advance  the  happ} 
day  I  would  engage  to  do  with  the  utmost  pleasure.  So 
saying,  I  bade  him  a  good  day,  and  went  to  make  my 
usual  round  of  calls. 

When  I  again  saw  the  old  gentleman,  he  had  quite 
recovered  from  his  cough,  and  I  could  perceive  that  I 
had  greatly  progressed  in  his  favor,  notwithstanding  the 
scowls  of  the  housekeeper,  who  evidently  thought  I  had 
in  some  measure,  usurped  her  position.  As  soon  as  I 
entered  the  apartment  my  recovered  patient  put  a  twenty 
dollar  bill  into  my  hand,  saying : 

"  There,  doctor,  there  is  your  fee  ;  not  a  word  now — 
I  know  it's  a  good  deal  of  money  for  the  little  use  you 
have  been ;  but  never  mind ;  take  it,  and,  stay  awhile. 
I  wish  you  to  see  the  young  lady  whom  I  am  about  to 
make  my  wife." 

"  The  young  lady !"  I  said,  almost  unwittingly. 

"  Humph !  the  man's  a  fool — hasn't  got  the  sense  I  gave 
him  credit  for,  I  see.  And  pray  sir,  (directly  addressing 
me,)  why  not  the  young  lady  ?  Does  not  the  learned 
Godolphin  say,  '  And  while  the  man  should  be  stout  and 
comely,  and  well  up  in  years,  to  the  end  that  his  mynde 
be  freed  from,  vain  conceits,  the  maiden  should  be  younge 
and  fayre,  and  likewise  of  comely  countenance  and 
seemely  grace  ?'  Answer  me  that,  sir !" 

I  said  that  I  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  right,  and  ex- 
pressed the  strongest  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  the  learned 
Godolphin,  and  thus  appeased  the  wrath  of  the  old  gen 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  191 

tleraan,  just  as  a  knock  at  the  door,  followed  by  a  light 
step  on  the  stairs,  announced  that  a  female  was  coming, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  very  pretty  girl  of  not  certainly 
more  than  21  years  of  age  entered  the  room  with  the 
housekeeper.  She  had  brought  a  silk  waistcoat  for  the 
old  gentleman,  which  had  been  sent  to  her  to  be  embroid- 
ered. Mrs.  Standish,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  own  heart, 
and  her  confidence  in  the  frigidity  of  her  master's,  had 
been  at  great  pains  to  procure  the  services  of  this  young 
woman,  as  she  was  skilled  in  an  art  even  then  fast  going 
out  of  fashion,  but  which  the  old  gentleman  still  most 
pertinaciously  adhered  to  with  regard  to  his  own  costume. 

The  young  woman's  workmanship  had  so  pleased  him, 
that  he  sent  for  her  to  thank  her  in  person  when  he  paid 
her,  and  her  beauty  and  artlessness  had  then  made  such 
an  impression  on  his  heart,  that  he  had  found  it  necessary 
to  make  an  earlier  visit  than  usual  the  next  morning  to 
the  book-stall,  to  banish  the  new  sensations  which  had 
sprung  up  within  his  breast.     Here  he  had  fallen  in  with 
the  works  of  some  author  of  the  16th  century,  named 
Godolphin,  treating  in  a  strange  style  on  matrimony,  and 
despite  the  cough  he  had  caught,  it  was  the  desire  of  find- 
ing the  third  volume  of  this  old  work,  which  had  brought 
him  abroad,  and  had  led  to  my  first  speaking  to  him  on 
the  impropriety  of  thus  exposing  himself  to  the  damp 
air.     It  appeared  also  that  the  preliminaries  had  been 
arranged;  that  the  girl's  mother,  a  respectable  widow, 
had  been  spoken  to,  and  that  the  young  woman  herself 
had  been  so  dazzled  with  the  prospect  of  a  sudden  leap 
from  poverty  and  labor  to  wealth,  for  I  cannot  conceive 
that  love  could  have  had  anything  to  do  with  the  affair 
on  her  part,   that  she  too  had   consented ;  the   house- 
keeper had  puffed  and  blown,  pish'd  and  faugh 'd,  until 
she  was  tired ;  but  in  vain  ;  the  old  man  was  inexorable 
in  his  determinations,  and  at  the  time  I  was  let  into  the 
secret,  all  was  settled,  the  old  gentleman  wanting  only, 
j  ust  for  the  sake  of  giving  him  confidence,  a  friend  of 
his  own  sex  to  see  him  through  the  ceremony,  and  for 
that  reason  he  had  fixed  upon  me. 


192  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;    OB, 

• 

I  will  make  my  story  short.  At  length  the  day  ar- 
rived ;  the  wedding  was  to  be  strictly  private,  and  it  was 
so  managed  that  none,  even  of  the  neighbors,  were  aware  ol 
it  being  about  to  take  place.  On  the  happy  day,  the  bride- 
groom appeared  in  a  sky-blue  coat,  instead  of  the  snuff 
colored  one  he  usually  wore  ;  the  snuff-colored  breeches 
were  also  exchanged  for  black  silk  plush,  and  silk  stock- 
ings replaced  the  worsted  ones  ;  a  pair  of  diamond  buckles 
sparkled  in  his  shoes,  and  at  his  knees,  while  a  new  three- 
cornered  cocked  hat  crowned  his  attire,  and  the  antiqua 
rian  book-worm  stood  transmogrified  into  a  beau  of  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  or  the  first  George,  or  sometime 
thereabouts;  the  bride  was  modestly  attired  in  fawn- 
colored  silk,  and  was  accompanied  by  her  mother  only 
as  bridesmaid,  while  I  stood  best  man  to  the  groom.  It 
was,  altogether,  a  droll  wedding;  but  notwithstanding 
the  disparity  of  age  and  of  disposition,  and  of  condition, 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  it  was  a  happy  one.  Mr. 

W ,  old  as  he  was — just  in  his  prime,  as  he  called 

himself — became  the  father  of  two  children,  a  boy  and  a 
girl :  full  of  eccentricity  to  the  last,  at  the  age  of  seventy, 
he  took  it  into  his  head  to  purchase  an  estate  in  Virginia, 
and  to  dispose  of  his  New  York  property.  To  this  es- 
tate he  removed,  and  died  there  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
three.  His  widow  survived  him  about  five  years,  dying 
when  about  forty-five  years  of  age.  The  children  grew 
up  and  married,  and  they  and  their  descendants  are  yet 
living — and  some  of  them,  perhaps,  may  recognize  their 
worthy  but  eccentric  progenitor  in  the  above  sketch. 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  198 

CHAPTER    XYI. 

TUB    IMPROVIDENT. 

I  HAD  just  dined,  one  summer's  evening,  in  1834,  when 
a  ring  at  the  door  bell  brought  the  servant  into  the  par- 
lor. 

*'A  letter  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  man,  handing  me  a 
note  neatly  folded,  and  directed  in  a  man's  handwriting; 
but  there  was  a  sort  of  vaccillation  in  the  characters,  that 
in  pursuance  of  a  hobby  I  have  somehow  got  hold  of, 
and  which  I  often  find  correct  in  its  theory — that  one 
may  form  some  estimate  of  the  character  from  the  hand- 
writing, I  should  not  have  considered  the  writer  to  be 
of  a  very  firm  disposition.  However,  I  merely  make 
this  remark,  as  it  was  another  test  in  which  my  theory 
came  out  correct ;  of  course  I  did  not  think  of  anything 
of  the  kind  at  the  moment,  but  broke  the  seal  of  the  let- 
ter and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Will  Doctor please  to  call  as  soon  as  convenient 

at  No.  6  Liberty  street,  and  inquire  for  a  lodger  named 
Kreutzer.  Call  this  evening,  if  possible,  for  I  feel  very 
unwell.  CARL  KREUTZER. 

''  Well,"  thought  I,  "  this  is  too  bad  after  having  been 
abroad  since  nine  o'clock  this  morning  until  five,  to  be 
thus  unceremoniously  called  out  again  just  as  I  have 
dined  and  got  on  my  dressing  gown  and  slippers,"  and  I 
tossed  the  letter  to  my  wife,  saying  : — 

"  I  think  it  will  be  soon  enough  to  call  in  the  morning 
as  I  drive  into  town." 

"  The  boy  is  waiting  for  an  answer,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
vant. 

I  looked  at  my  wife,  who  had  read  the  note : — 

" Decide,  Susy,"  said  I ;  "do  you  think  I  had  better 
call  to-night  ?" 

9 


j.94  THE  OLD  DOCTOR  J   OB, 

"  I  think  that  twenty  years  ago  you  would  have  been 
only  too  glad  to  have  obeyed  a  call  from  a  patient,  at  any 
or  all  hours  of  the  day  or  night,"  said  my  wife,  archly 
smiling,  "  and  I  don't  think  that  prosperity  should  make 
us  careless  of  our  fellow  creatures  when  we  may  be  of 
service  to  them." 

"  Then  I  understand  that  I  am  to  don  my  boots  and 
coat  and  again  to  drive  a  couple  of  miles  over  the  jolting 
paving  stones  of  Broadway  ?" 

"  No  need  of  that  either,  dear,"  replied  my  wife.  "  The 
evening  is  fine,  and  the  streets  are  free  from  dust,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  showers  that  fell  in  the  morning,  and  I 
will  accompany  you ;  I  wish  to  call  at  the  dry  goods 
stores,  and  I  will  wait  in  one  of  them  while  you  make 
your  visit." 

"  Ah !  the  wind  lies  in  that  quarter,  does  it  ?"  thought 
I.  "  Well,  true  enough.  I  am  now  so  occupied  with 
the  duties  of  my  profession  that  my  wife  does  not  get  as 
much  of  my  company  abroad,  as  it  is  reasonable  she 
should  expect.  So,  although  I  have  a  shrewd  guess  that 
her  philanthropy  this  evening  is  partially  moved  by  an 
intended  foray  upon  the  contents  of  my  pocket  book,  I 
don't  see  that  I  ought  to  object  to  such  things  occasion- 
ally. Thank  God,  I  can  afford  it ;  and,  to  say  the  truth, 
I  can't  charge  her  with  extravagance.  Her  economy  in 
our  day  of  struggling,  aided  much  in  placing  me  in  my 
present  comfortable  position.  Besides,  a  dry  goods  store 
is  always  a  sufficient  lure  to  allow  the  ladies  to  practice 
a  little  connubial  deceit.  For  my  part,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  Satan  tempted  Eve  with  the  shadow  of  one 
of  the  future  dry  goods  stores,  which  were  afterwards  to 
exercise  such  fascination  over  her  sex,  instead  of  with  an 
apple;  and  I  am  the  more  confirmed  in  this  opinion,  be- 
cause it  is  very  probable  that  thence  she  conceived  the 
idea  of  sewing  up  aprons  of  fig  leaves.  So  I  cheerfully 
responded : — 

"  Well,  then,  my  love,  put  on  your  bonnet  and  shaw] 
and  it  shall  be  as  you  desire." 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  195 

"  You  can  put  your  purse  in  your  pocket,"  said  rny 
wife. 

"  I  presume  so,"  said  I,  smilingly.  "  In  case  the  pa- 
tient I  am  about  to  visit,  should  turn  out  one  of  your 
distressed  patients,  eh  ?'' 

"  Now,  don't  be  provoking,"  she  replied.  "  I  want  to 
purchase  a  quantity  of  linen  for  your  use,  and  besides, 
James,"  and  as  she  said  this  she  came  up  and  kissed  me, 
"  You  know  you  promised  me,  I  don't  know  how  long 
ago,  a  new  cashmere  shawl,  and  I  saw  such  a  beautiful 
one  in  Broadway,  this  morning." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  believe  I  promised  it  to  you  as 
long  ago  as  the  evening  before  last.  However,  you  shall 
have  it  to-night — so  hasten  and  dress." 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  in  the  streets,  and  in  the 
course  of  half  an  hour  I  had  left  my  wife  in  a  dry  goods 
store  and  was  wending  my  way  down  Liberty-street, 
towards  the  North  Eiver.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding 
the  number  of  the  dwelling.  It  was  an  old  straggling 
boarding  house  which  has  long  since  given  place  to  a 
more  modern  and  more  substantial  dwelling.  On  mak- 
ing inquiry  for  Mr.  Kreutzer,  I  was  directed  to  ascend 
to  the  attic  floor  and  knock  at  the  first  door  on  the  land- 
ing. I  did  as  I  was  desired,  and  on  knocking  at  the 
door,  a  young  man,  slender  and  much  emaciated,  made 
his  appearance,  and  I  entered  a  rudely  furnished  dirty 
room  in  which  was  a  bed,  which,  by  the  appearance 
of  it,  I  judged  my  patient  had  just  risen  from: — 

"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  your  prompt 
visit,  Dr. ,"  said  the  young  man,  who  was  apparent- 
ly about  twenty -five  or  perhaps  thirty  years  of  age.  He 
spoke  with  scarcely  a  perceptible  foreign  accent.  "  I 
have  heard  much  of  your  skill  and  also  of  your  kindness 
of  heart,  which  has  led  you  to  visit,  gratuitously,  those 
who  are  unable  to  pay  your  fees.  I  do  not  wish  to  de- 
ceive you  Dr. ,  I  have  no  money  and  am  in  arrears 

with  my  landlady  even  for  this  miserable  lodging.  I 
have  no  hope  of  getting  better  without  medical  assist- 
ance, and  I  made  inquiry  who  among  the  physicians  of 


196  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

the  city  were  most  likely  to  attend  me,  for  a  time,  with- 
out pressing  immediate  payment.  Mind,  I  intend  even- 
tually to  pay  you,  for  I  am  by  every  mail  expecting  a 
remittance  from  my  mother,  who  resides  at  Munich,  and 
is  a  widow  kidy  of  considerable  property.  If  you  doubt 
my  words,  you  can  ask  my  landlady  whether  I  have  not 
within  the  twelve-month  I  have  lodged  here,  received 
two  or  three  considerable  remittances." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  I  must  confess  I  felt  some- 
what inclined  to  consider  him  an  impostor ;  for  often  had 
I  been  deceived,  after  attending  a  patient  gratuitously, 
and  even  keeping  him  during  his  sickness  from  actual 
starvation,  by  donations  of  money,  and  found  at  last  that 
all  my  care  and  charity  had  been  expended  upon  a  worth- 
less character. 

And  here,  let  me  remark,  that  although  when  people 
are  ill  they  are  ready  enough  to  send  for  a  physician,  it 
has  become  quite  a  joke  to  remark  upon  their  exorbitant 
charges,  and  a  doctor's  bill  is  almost  invariably  grudging- 
ly paid ;  yet,  I  speak  not  alone  from  my  own  experience, 
but  that  of  all  my  professional  brethren;  I  believe  there 
are  no  men  who  annually  bestow  so  much  of  their  time 
and  money  in  relieving  their  fellow-creatures  without 
hope  of  fee  or  reward.  Some  there  may  be,  callous  to 
the  calls  of  suffering  humanity ;  but  they,  I  hope,  and  I 
truly  believe,  form  the  invariable  exceptions  to  a  general 
rule.  In  fact,  the  profession  of  a  physician,  while  it  ne- 
cessarily renders  him  to  outward  appearance  careless  of 
pain  and  suffering,  renders  him  peculiarly  open  to  the 
calls  of  real  distress.  But,  to  my  story. 

As  I  have  said,  I  was  at  first  inclined  to  treat  the 
young  man  as  an  impostor ;  but  he  had  an  open,  honest 
countenance,  and  was  evidently  an  educated  man ;  be- 
sides, he  had  told  me  plainly  what  I  had  to  expect,  and 
then  he  looked  miserably  attenuated,  and  the  peculiar 
pinched  appearance  of  his  nostrils  led  me  to  believe  that 
at  least  much  of  his  illness  arose  for  want  of  food  proper 
to  sustain  a  stout- framed  young  man  in  health.  I  at  once 
determined  to  satisfy  myself  of  this,  and  I  said : 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  197 

"  You  board  in  this  house,  1  presume?" 

"  I  rent  this  room,  only,  "Doctor,  and  get  my  meals  at 
my  own  expense." 

"What  are  the  symptoms  of  your  disease?"  said  I. 

"  I  feel  a  sinking  of  the  entire  system,"  he  replied, 
"  and  am  constantly  troubled  with  headache  and  heated 
skin.  I  fancy  I  have  strong  febrile  symptoms  too." 

I  felt  his  pulse  and  desired  him  to  show  me  his  tongue, 
the  latter  was  thickly  furred: 

"  You  have  no  fever,"  I  said,  "  indeed  your  pulse  is 
low  rather  than  otherwise,  and  the  heated  skin  and  gen- 
eral prostration  of  the  system  arises  from  a  stomach 
wretchedly  deranged.  Have  you  any  appetite?"  he 
looked  at  me  earnestly  for  a  moment,  and  then  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Thank  God  I  have  no  appetite  just  now.  I  have 
not  had  for  some  days." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  his  voice  as  he 
uttered  these  words,  which  struck  me  at  once  with  the 
conviction  that  rny  suspicions  were  correct,  and  that  the 
young  German  had  actually  been  reduced  to  his  present 
condition  by  a  lack  of  nutritious  food,  and  the  indulgence 
of  a  craving  appetite  in  such  cheap  and  unwholesome 
victuals  as  his  limited  means  would  enable  him  to  pro- 
cure. I  determined  to  sift  the  matter  to  the  bottom : 

"What  food  have  you  been  living  upon?"  said  I, 
"  show  me  what  you  have  in  your  room  at  present." 

He  hesitated ;  but  I  insisted,  telling  him  that  unless  he 
did  as  I  desired,  I  must  leave  him,  as  I  could  not  pre- 
scribe for  him,  without  being  made  acquainted  with  every 
phase  of  his  disorder  and  the  causes  which  had  led  to  it. 
After  some  further  hesitation,  he  produced  from  a  cup- 
board at  the  head  of  his  bed,  a  portion  of  a  mouldy  loaf, 
made  of  the  most  villainous  flour  and  the  remnant  of 
some  dried  German  sausage,  which  was  nearly  in  a  pu- 
trid state. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  intend  to  tell  you — to 
tell  anybody  of  the  utter  distress  to  which  I  am  reduced. 
On  such  food  as  this,  that  I  have  purchased  as  the  refuse 


198  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

of  the  stores,  I  have  lived  for  the  last  two  months.  This 
week  I  have  tasted  nothing. — Thank  God,  I  have  no 
appetite." 

"  Have  you  no  money?"  I  inquired. 

"  For  the  last  fortnight  I  have  not  had  one  cent  to 
bless  myself  with.  For  the  past  two  months,  I  have 
portioned  out  the  remainder  of  my  mother's  last  remit- 
tance in  a  dole  of  a  few  cents  daily." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  first  felt  symptoms  of  ill- 
ness?" I  asked. 

"About  four  weeks." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  in  this  country?" 

"Two  years." 

"  And  since  you  arrived,  before  you  fell  sick,  in  what 
business  were  you  employed  ?" 

"  In  none.     I  could  find  nothing  to  do." 

"  Nothing  to  do !"  said  I  in  amazement,  "  a  healthy 
stout  young  man  of  gentlemanly  appearance  and  good 
education  as  you  must  have  been,  could  find  nothing  to 
do  in  two  years  I" 

"  No,  Doctor ;  you  may  think  it  strange,  but  I  could 
not.  Nobody  wanted  my  services  in  anything  that  1 
had  been  educated  for." 

"But,"  replied  I,  "surely,  sooner  than  live  as  you 
appear  to  have  done,  I  would  have  applied  myself  to  any 
species  of  labor." 

"I  could  find  no  labor  to  perform,"  said  he  again, 
"  none  of  any  kind." 

"  On  what,  then,  have  you  subsisted  ?" 

"  On  my  mother's  remittances,  which  if  they  were 
tardy  sometimes,  and  kept  me  in  poverty,  never  before 
failed  me  so  long,  and  never  reduced  me  to  the  state  of 
destitution  I  am  in  at  present — now,  too,  when  most  I 
need  aid." 

It  was  useless  to  protract  the  conversation  further,  and 
I  therefore  gave  him  a  prescription  to  a  druggist  of  my 
acquaintance,  for  such  medicines  as  I  thought  would  be 
serviceable.  I  saw  nothing  could  be  effected  until  his 
system  was  thoroughly  purged,  and  yet  I  feared  to  give 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  199 

him  powerful  medicines,  in  his  weak  state.  I  therefore 
prescribed  a  dose  of  magnesia  in  scalded  milk,  and  de- 
sired his  landlady,  as  I  descended  the  stairs,  to  furnish 
him  with  some  gruel,  if  he  felt  hungry  after  his  medicine 
had  operated,  stating  that  I  would  be  responsible  for  any 
expense  she  might  incur.  She  seemed  a  kind-hearted 
woman  enough,  and  corroborated  what  he  had  told  me 
about  his  receiving  remittances  from  home ;  then,  she 
added,  "  he  pays  his  rent,  and  lives  like  a  fighting-cock, 
until  his  purse  gets  low  again,  when  he  writes  home 
again,  and  doles  out  his  few  remaining  dollars  until  he 
gets  a  fresh  supply." 

"Are  you  aware  that  he  is  perishing  from  starvation?" 
said  I. 

"  Lord  bless  you!  no  sir,"  replied  the  woman.  "Once 
or  twice  he  has  been  very  hard  up,  and  I  ventured  to 
offer  him  some  food  from  my  own  table ;  but  he  indig- 
nantly refused  it,  and  asked  me  if  I  thought  he  was  a 
beggar  living  on  charity.  He  was  very  proud,  sir,  before 
he  was  taken  ill,  and  would  crave  assistance  from  no- 
body." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  I,  "who  he  is?  that  is  to  say, 
anything  of  his  family  ?" 

"From  what  I  have  heard  from  other  lodgers,  his 
countrymen,  he  is  the  son  of  a  German  Count,  and  had 
to  fly  his  country  on  account  of  some  political  scrape  he 
got  into;  but  he  is  different  from  most  of  his  country- 
men— for  they  generally  find  some  way  of  getting  a  liv- 
ing; but  he  is  quite  thriftless.  I  never  saw  any  one  like 
him." 

I  left  the  house,  having  before  I  left  my  patient,  pro- 
mised to  call  upon  him  in  the  morning,  and  rejoined  my 
wife,  who  had  ample  time  to  select  her  shawl,  and  to 
whom,  as  we  walked  home,  I  related  the  particulars  of 
my  visit. 

"  You  see,  my  love,"  I  said  in  concluding  my  story, 
"  how  happy  you  are  in  the  patients  you  especially  re- 
commend to  my  care.  This  is  another  of  your  gratuitous 
patients." 


200  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

"We  were  once  poor  enough  ourselves,  James,"  was 
the  only  reply  she  made,  and  I  felt  that  she  had  said 
enough. 

The  next  morning  I  repeated  my  visit  to  my  patient, 
whose  singular  habits  had  already  began  to  interest  me. 
As  I  expected,  I  found  him  considerably  better,  although 
it  was  still  necessary  for  him  to  take  purgatives,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  thorough  disorganization  of  the  natural 
functions  of  his  system.  He,  however,  had  recovered 
his  appetite,  and  my  care  now  was  only  to  see  that  he 
did  not  overfeed  himself,  in  consequence  of  the  reaction 
which  had  already  commenced.  1  also,  at  his  request, 
endeavored  to  discover  how  it  was  that  his  mother  had 
not  replied  to  his  last  letter.  I  found,  after  some  time 
spent  in  inquiry,  that  he  had  confided  the  fact  of  his  ex- 
pecting a  money  letter  to  a  fellow-boarder,  who  had  gone 
to  the  post  office  and  received  it,  and  had  since  gone  to 
Texas.  He  wrote  to  his  mother  again,  and  this  time 
with  better  success — for  at  the  expiration  of  three  month?, 
(the  mails  were  tardy  in  those  days,)  he  received  an  af- 
fectionate letter  from  his  parent,  and  a  draft  for  four  hun- 
dred dollars.  He  immediately  desired  me  to  repay  myself 
the  money  I  had  expended  upon  him,  and  begged  me  to 
take  such  a  fee  as  I  thought  just;  but  this  I  positively 
refused,  advising  him  as  a  friend  interested  in  his  welfare, 
to  lay  out  the  money,  amounting  to  some  $350  after  all 
his  debts  were  paid,  in  getting  into  some  respectable  em- 
ployment, for  many  descriptions  of  which  he  was  emi- 
nently qualified,  being  a  good  linguist  and  writing  a  good 
hand,  besides  possessing  an  accurate  knowledge  of  book- 
keeping; but  my  advice  might  as  well  have  been  given 
to  the  winds.  I  was  utterly  astonished,  knowing  the  pri- 
vations and  wretchedness  he  had  undergone,  to  meet 
him,  about  a  month  afterwards  in  Broadway  on  horse- 
back, attired  in  the  very  extremity  of  the  fashion.  He 
spoke  to  me  and  told  me  he  had  removed  to  handsome 
lodgings  near  the  Battery,  desiring  me  at  the  same  time 
to  call  upon  him. 

I  saw  that  he  was  incorrigible  and  shook  my  head  as 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  201 

I  passed  on,  confident  that  this  extravagance  must  soon 
come  to  an  end  in  one  situated  as  he  was.  I  was  right. 
In  a  very  few  weeks,  he  made  his  appearance  at  my  resi- 
dence, all  his  valuables  pawned  or  sold,  and  professing 
extreme  penitence  for  his  former  improvidence,  begged 
me  K  aid  him  in  his  endeavor  to  obtain  employment.  I 
was  in  hopes  he  had  at  last  "sown  his  wild  oats,"  and  I 
spoke  to  some  friend  through  whose  means  he  obtained 
a  mercantile  situation;  but  he  soon  lost  it  again — for  he 
obstinately  refused  to  do  any  thing  which  his  vocabulary 
construed  as  menial,  although  nothing  more  was  required 
of  him  than  is  every  day  expected  from  junior  clerks, 
members  of  the  most  respectable  families  in  the  city. 

He  was  dismissed,  and  thoroughly  tired  of  him,  I  left 
him  to  his  own  resources ;  and  thus,  forced  to  do  some- 
thing or  starve,  I  believe  he  filled,  for  a  few  days,  vari- 
ous situations,  which  he  lost  for  the  same  reason  he  had 
lost  his  first  one.  To  make  my  story  short,  however, 
fortune  gave  him  one  more  chance.  While  in  a  state  of 
the  utmost  poverty,  he  called  upon  me  one  day  to  say 
that  a  letter  was  advertised  for  him,  in  the  post-office, 
and  begged  for  the  loan  of  a  few  shillings,  to  get  it  out. 
I  gave  them  to  him,  and  the  next  morning  he  called  at 
my  house — joy  depicted  upon  his  countenance. 

"  You  have  received  good  -news,  I  presume,"  I  said, 
coldly. 

"  Yes,  doctor,"  he  replied.  "  I  can  return  to  Munich. 
My  friends  have  obtained  a  free  pardon  for  me,  and  my 
mother  has  sent  me  money  to  pay  my  passage  home." — 
He  gave  me  the  letter  to  read,  and  I  was  sufficiently  a 
German  scholar  to  perceive  that  it  was  as  he  had  stated. 

With  many  thanks  for  my  kindness,  he  left  me,  and 
shortly  after  sailed  in  a  vessel  bound  to  Hamburg.  I  saw 
no  more  of  him  for  many  years.  Indeed,  I  should,  per- 
haps, have  forgotten  all  about  him ;  but  I  made  a  prac- 
tice for  amusement,  of  scribbling  down  in  my  note-book, 
in  my  leisure  hours,  the  most  singular  of  the  cases  that 
have  come  under  my  notice,  in  the  course  of  a  long,  and, 
I  hope  I  may  say  without  vanity,  tolerably  successful 

9* 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

practice.  One  peculiarity  I  have,  however,  is  never 
to  forget  a  face  I  have  once  been  intimate  with,  even 
though  years  should  elapse.  Not  more  than  two  years 
ago,  I  stepped  into  a  fashionable  oyster  saloon,  to  obtain 
some  refreshments,  and  to  my  great  astonishment,  al- 
though years  had  made  some  ravages  in  his  countenance, 
I  at  once  recognized  in  the  waiter  who  served  me,  Carl 
Kreutzer.  He  evidently  did  not  recognize  me ;  but  I 
made  an  excuse  as  he  stepped  away,  to  call  for  something 
else,  in  order  that  I  might  speak  to  him ;  and  when  he 
returned,  I  called  him  by  name.  He  gazed  at  me  earn- 
estly, and  then  said — 

"Is  it  possible  !     Can  this  be  Dr. ?" 

"It  is,  I  replied,  "  and  truly  sorry  I  am  to  see  you  in 
this  predicament.  How  has  all  this  happened  ?" 

"  Through  mv  own  fault,"  he  said.  "I  took  the  part 
of  the  populace  in  the  troubles  between  the  King  of  Ba- 
varia and  his  nobles,  and  was  compelled  to  flee  the  coun- 
try. I  have  been  a  waiter  here  but  a  few  weeks,  and  am 
daily  expecting  a  remittance  from  my  mother,  when  I 
shall  do  something  better.  My  property — that  is,  the  real 
estate  attached  to  my  father's  title,  is  confiscated ;  but  my 
poor  mother  is  still  living,  although  very  aged.  She  has 
property  in  her  own  right,  and  that  is  spared." 

"  You,  then,  have  enjoyed  your  father's  property  since 
I  saw  you  last?" 

"  Yes,  and  his  title,  too.  I  am  a  Count,  although  you 
see  me  thus  menially  employed ;  but  I  have  not  the 
pride  I  once  possessed.". 

I  saw  him  no  more.  A  few  weeks  afterwards,  I  called 
at  the  restaurant  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  him,  and  learnt 
from  the  proprietor  that  he  had  received  some  bad  news 
from  home,  which  had  so  affected  him,  that  he  had  fallen 
sick,  and  had  been  removed  to  the  hospital.  On  calling 
there,  I  found  that  he  was  dead,  and  had  been  buried  as 
a  pauper.  There  is  a  moral  in  this  tale,  drawn  from  real 
life  Carl  Kreutzer  was  but  a  specimen  of  what  we  often 
see  in  the  world,  an  accomplished,  amiable,  interesting 
man,  in  his  youthful  days,  with  a  tolerably  good  head, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  203 

and  an  affectionate,  honest  heart ;  but  of  a  weak,  languid, 
lymphatic  tone  of  character  that  always  shrunk  from  any 
difficulty  that  came  in  the  way.  The  moral  is,  simply,  labor 
for  your  bread  in  any  honest  capacity,  and  think  it  no 
degradation  to  do  so ;  and,  above  all,  depend  as  little  as 
possible  on  remittances  from  your  friends. 


204  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

A    SOLEMN    WEDDING. 

WHAT  strange  reminiscences  are  awakened  in  the  mind 
by  the  magic  spell  of  a  few  words  carelessly  traced  upon 
paper  in  years  gone  by,  and  long  ago  forgotten.  Every 
one  should  keep  a  diary  in  youth,  were  it  only  for  the 
sake  of  the  enjoyment  he  is  sure  to  reap  from  its  pages 
in  after  days,  should  he  be  spared  until  the  frosts  of  age 
have  covered  his  head  with  silvered  hairs  and  traced 
deep  wrinkles  in  his  cheeks  and  brow.  True,  these  brief 
records  sometimes  cause  tears  to  gush  forth  from  a  fouii- 
tain  of  sorrow  long  run  dry ;  but  there  is  not  always  a 
sorrowful  remembrance  attached  to  past  troubles — bitter 
though  they  have  been,  and  hard  to  bear  in  the  moment 
of  suffering — nay,  the  mind  oftentimes  feels  a  soothing, 
pleasing  melancholy  in  their  recollection. 

I  turn  to  a  page  in  my  diary,  written  well-nigh  thirty 
years  ago.  It  is  a  blotted  page,  and  contains  only  two 
or  three  lines — the  paper  is  yellow  with  age,  and  the  ink 
is  so  faded  that  I  am  obliged  to  put  on  my  spectacles  to 
decypher  the  words.  I'  draw  the  lamp  closer,  BO  that 
the  subdued  light  cast  by  the  glass  shade  falls  full  upon 
the  page,  and  I  read: 

"  APRIL  24,  1826.— Poor  Margaret  Fuller  died  yester- 
day, aged  18  years  and  nine  months — for  her,  poor  girl, 
a  happy  release — but  alas !  a  source  of  heartfelt  grief  to 
her  surviving  relatives." 

Poor  Margaret  Fuller !  When  I  had  finished  reading 
the  lines,  I  could  scarcely  recall  to  mind  the  person  to 
whom  they  alluded;  but  anon,  the  mist  which  had 
clouded  my  memory  dispersed;  gradually,  but  clearly, 
as  the  morning  rays  of  the  blessed  sun  dissipate  the  fogs 
which  have  overhung  the  earth,  and  reveal  the  landscape 
more  close  at  hand,  and  then  more  and  more  distant,  till 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  205 

all  is  visible  as  far  as  the  remote  boundary  of  the  hori- 
zon ;  so  was  every  incident  connected  with  this — one  of 
the  most  interesting  reminiscences  of  my  early  life — dis- 
closed to  my  mind's  eye,  as  though  they  had  occurred  but 
yesterday.  "  Poor  Margaret  Fuller !"  I  repeated  half 
aloud,  and  almost  unconsciously;  and  my  wife  looked 
up  from  her  knitting,  and  looking  me  in  the  face  for  a 
moment,  as  though  she  were  recalling  to  mind  some 
memories  of  the  past,  re-echoed  my  words  with  a  sigh. 
"  Ah  !"  said  she,  "  Poor  Margaret  Fuller." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  as  though  in  reply  to  some  question 
she  had  asked  of  me,  for  there  was,  I  thought,  almost  an 
interrogatory  in  the  manner  in  which  she  had  uttered  the 
words  ;  "  Yes,  my  dear.  It  is  really  nearly  thirty  years 
since  poor  Margaret  died." 

"  Bless  me,  James — you  don't  say  so  ?"  replied  my  wife ; 
"  why  it  seems  scarcely  longer  ago  than  yesterday  that  I 
used  to  nurse  the  poor  girl  and  read  to  her  as  she  sat  up 
propped  by  pillows.  Dear  me !  how  time  flies  away ! 
and  these  painful  recollections — how  apt  they  are  to  make 
one  drop  a  stitch  in  one's  knitting — I  do  declare  I  shall 
have  to  unravel  all  the  work  I  have  been  doing  for  the 
last  ten  minutes." 

But  I  must  inform  the  reader  who  was  the  Margaret 
Fuller,  the  brief  records  of  whose  death  had  conjured  up 
these  painful  recollections  in  the  minds  of  myself  and 
my  wife.  Well  then,  thirty  years  ago  there  was  a  little 
sylvan  cottage  located  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  about 
six  miles  from  the  Battery.  It  was  a  beautiful  little 
place  and  quite  in  the  country  then — for  thirty  years  ago 
New  York  was  not  the  great  bustling  metropolis  it  is  at 
present,  although  then  a  large  city,  giving  promise  of 
its  great  increase  ;  neither  were  there  then  the  same  facil- 
ities for  travelling  to  and  fro ;  railroads  and  steamboats 
had  not  then  superseded  the  slower  conveyances  of  our 
ancestors,  and  it  was  quite  a  country  drive  out  to  Miss 
Fuller's  cottage.  Yes,  I  am  sure  I  am  quite  right  in  say- 
ing that  the  little  sylvan  cottage  was  then  a  loag  way 
from  the  city. 


206  THE  OLD  POCTOR;  OB, 

Enough,  however,  of  the  cottage,  for  the  present ;  let 
me  speak  of  its  inmates.  They  were  Mr.  Fuller  and  his 
three  daughters.  Mr.  Fuller  was  a  Scotch  merchant, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  most  prosperous  and  wealthy 
men  in  the  city  of  New  York,  but  who,  in  his  later  days, 
had  met  sad  reverses,  which  had  reduced  him  to  compar- 
ative poverty.  With  the  remnant  of  his  property,  how- 
ever, he  had  purchased  the  cottage  I  have  described,  and 
a  small  plot  of  ground  of  some  acre  or  so,  on  which  it 
was  situated,  and  having  invested  what  money  he  had 
left  after  his  debts  were  paid,  in  the  funds,  he  found  him- 
self in  possession  of  an  income  of  $900  a  year — a  very 
small  sum,  to  be  sure,  compared  with  what  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  expend,  but  quite  sufficient,  with  economy, 
to  preserve  him  and  his  daughters  from  want. 

At  the  period  that  this  change  took  place,  the  eldest 
daughter  was  verging  on  her  30th  year,  the  second  was 
two  years  her  junior,  and  little  Margaret,  the  young- 
est, was  hardly  sixteen  years  old ; — there  had  been  a 
daughter  and  a  son  between  Margaret  and  Mary,  the 
younger  of  her  two  elder  sisters,  who,  had  they  lived, 
would  have  been  aged  respectively  twenty-two  and  twen- 
ty years — and  then  there  was  a  wide  gap,  and  little  Mag- 
gie, the  youngest  daughter,  the  pet  of  the  family  and  the 
idol  of  the  household,  was  born.  Two  years  before  his 
failure,  Mr.  Fuller  had  lost  his  wife,  and  Jane,  the  eldest 
daughter,  had  become  mistress  of  her  father's  house,  and 
a  mother  as  well  as  a  sister  to  Margaret.  At  the  period 
of  which  I  write,  these  persons,  with  a  negro  man  and 
woman  as  servants,  comprised  the  denizens  of  the  little 
cottage. 

If  there  is  one  amusement  that  I  prefer  over  another, 
it  is  that  of  angling.  In  my  juvenile  days,  good  old 
Isaac  Walton  never  had  a  more  enthusiastic  disciple,  and 
many  a  day  before  I  got  into  a  good  practice,  I  beguiled 
the  weary  hours,  and  strove  to  banish,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  present,  that  perpetually  gnawing  "  hope  deferred 
which  maketh  the  heart  sick,"  by  sitting  for  hours  on  the 
shady  banks  of  the  river,  and  seeking  to  inveigle  into 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  207 

my  snare   the   sportive  finny  tenants  of  the  sparkling 
water. 

One  day  I  had  been  more  successful  than  usual,  and 
my  "  creel"  by  degrees  became  heavily  laden  with  the 
spoils  of  the  river.  Fish  were  more  plentiful  in  those 
days,  before  the  constant  hurry  to  and  fro  of  steamboats 
had  frightened  away  the  timid  little  denizens  of  the  then 
comparatively  still  waters.  The  day  had  been  one  pecu- 
liarly fitted  for  my  favorite  amusement — a  soft  warm 
haze  pervaded  the  atmosphere,  and  although  the  weather 
had  been  fine,  there  had  been  no  sun  to  lighten  the  dark 
shadow  that  a  clump  of  overhanging  trees,  beneath  which 
I  sat,  cast  upon  the  water,  and  in  which  the  fish  were 
nestling  beneath  the  bank,  occasionally  darting  out  and 
seizing  the  tempting  but  delusive  bait  that  I  played  up 
and  down  and  to  and  fro.  I  had  brought  a  book  with 
me ;  if  I  mistake  not,  it  was  good  old  Isaac  Walton's 
own  book,  expatiating  upon  the  delights  of  his  favorite 
amusement,  and  intermingled  with  those  indescribably 
quaint  yet  beautiful  ideas  which  have  served  so  much  to 
increase  the  number  of  his  disciples,  and  have  been  the 
cause  of  such  a  cruel  persecution  of  the  harmless  finny 
tribe.  When,  for  a  short  time,  the  nibbles  had  been  few 
and  far  between,  I  had  stuck  the  end  of  my  rod  beneath 
a  furze  bush,  and  throwing  myself  full  length  on  the 
cool  grass,  had  dipped  into  its  pages,  taking  care  at  the 
same  time  so  to  arrange  the  rod  that  the  slightest  tug  at 
the  line  would  be  perceptible  to  me,  and  thus  between 
fishing  and  reading,  I  don't  know  how  many  hours  had 
passed  away.  So  pleasantly  had  I  been  employed  that  I 
had  not  perceived  the  heavy  clouds — the  precursors  of  a 
storm,  that  had  been  gathering  and  lowering  in  the  hori- 
Eon,  and  the  first  intimation  I  had  of  the  fact  was  through 
a  vivid  flash  of  sheet  lightning,  which,  just  as  the  sun 
was  setting,  lighted  up  the  darkening  waters  until  they 
appeared  like  a  mirror  of  silver.  I  looked  up  and  felt 
the  pattering  of  heavy  drops  of  rain,  and  before  I  could 
gather  together  my  fishing  gear,  the  sky  was  darkened, 
the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents,  and  flash  after  flash  of 


208  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

lightning,  and  peal  after  peal  of  thunder,  told  that  the 
storm  that  had  burst  over  the  spot,  was  likely  to  be  se- 
vere and  lasting.  I  was  several  miles  from  home,  and  for 
aught  I  knew  a  very  considerable  distance  from  any  hab- 
itable dwelling-place ;  the  atmosphere  shortly  became 
dark  almost  as  midnight,  except  when  it  was  illumined 
by  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  which  only  made  the 
darkness  that  followed  more  palpable ;  while  the  very 
earth  beneath  my  feet  seemed  to  tremble  beneath  the 
peals  of  reverberating  thunder.  I  had  to  walk  over 
fields  of  long  grass,  which  had  already  been  changed 
into  a  marsh  by  the  torrents  of  rain  ;  and  as  the  wind 
had  arisen  until  it  blew  a  tempest,  it  was  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  that  I  could  manage  to  preserve  my  footing  ; 
as  to  making  any  headway,  that  was  next  thing  to  impos- 
sible ;  yet  to  stay  where  I  was,  seemed  as  though  I  were 
resigning  myself  to  perish  in  the  morass.  I  therefore  set 
down  my  basket  of  fish  and  all  my  fishing  gear,  and  en- 
deavored mournfully  to  make  my  way  into  the  high  road, 
where  I  could  find  a  firmer  foothold  than  on  the  wet, 
slippery  grass.  Half  blinded  as  I  was  with  the  rain  and 
the  lightning,  it  must  have  been  at  least  an  hour  before 
I  at  length  reached  what  appeared  to  be  the  high  road, 
but  I  was  not  aware  in  what  direction  I  had  been  walk- 
ing, or  rather  floundering  through  the  darkness,  and  when 
I  reached  the  road  I  had  been  so  anxious  to  gain,  I  was 
utterly  ignorant  of  my  whereabouts.  I  cast  my  eyes 
around  me  half  in  despair,  and  at  length  I  thought  I  per- 
ceived through  the  foliage  of  some  low  brushwood,  to  my 
right,  and  apparently  only  a  few  hundred  yards  distant, 
a  light. 

Was  it  a  mere  will-o'-the-wisp — an  ignus  fatuus  pro- 
duced by  the  storm,  or  was  it  a  real  light  from  the  case- 
ment of  a  dwelling-house  ?  Never  did  bewildered,  storm- 
beset  mariner  gaze  more  anxiously  at  the  glimmering 
light  looming  through  the  obscurity  of  midnight  clouds, 
uncertain  whether  it  was  a  gleaming  star  that  had  burst 
through  the  canopy  of  hazy  darkness,  or  whether  it  was 
in  reality  the  beacon  light  which  alike  warned  him  of 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  209 

hidden  danger,  and  pointed  out  the  approach  to  n  haven 
of  refuge,  than  did  I  at  this  faint  indication  that  shelter 
might  be  near — nor  could  the  mariner's  joy  be  greater, 
when  doubt  no  longer  existed,  than  was  mine  when  I 
ascertained  that  the  cheerful  light  did  actually  gleam  from 
the  window  of  an  inhabited  dwelling. 

With  much  difficulty,  for  the  storm  increased  rather 
than  diminished  in  violence,  I  made  my  way  to  the  cot- 
tage, and  knocked  loudly  for  admittance.  A  watch-dog 
inside  commenced  barking  furiously,  but  he  was  silenced 
by  a  gruff  voice,  and  shortly  after,  the  door  was  unbarred ; 
all  attempts  to  carry  on  a  conversation  as  to  who  I  was. 
or  what  were  my  intentions  in  presenting  myself  at  such 
an  untimely  and  unpropitious  period,  having  failed,  as 
well  might  one  have  attempted  to  carry  on  a  private  and 
confidential  tete-a-tete  in  the  "  Cave  of  the  Winds,"  beneath 
the  Falls  of  Niagara.  As  I  have  said,  the  door  was  cau- 
tiously opened,  as  though  the  person  inside  was  anxious 
to  scrutinize  the  appearance  of  the  unexpected  visitor ; 
but  if  that  was  his  intent,  it  was  useless,  for  as  the  bolt 
was  drawn,  a  flash  of  lightning  almost  blinded  his  eyes, 
and  caused  him  to  start  backwards,  while  at  the  same 
moment  a  gust  of  wind  blew  the  door  open  with  sufficient 
force  to  have  torn  it  off  its  hinges,  and  carried  me,  in 
spite  of  myself,  right  into  the  arms  of  my  late  interlocu- 
tor, who  fell  backwards  to  the  floor,  uttering  a  hideous 
shout  of  alarm,  and  pulling  me,  streaming  as  I  was  with 
water  and  covered  with  mud,  on  the  top  of  him.  The 
little  cur  again  commenced  barking  furiously,  and  I  heard 
various  exclamations  and  ejaculations  of  fear  and  wonder' 
in  the  parlor.  I  strove  to  rise,  but  the  man  who  held  me 
in  his  arms  kept  on  shouting,  and  would  neither  get  up 
himself  nor  allow  me  to  do  so.  He  seemed  paralyzed 
with  fear. 

At  length  the  parlor  opened,  and  a  gentleman  came  out 
with  a  pistol  in  one  hand  and  a  candlestick  in  the  other, 
followed  by  three  young  ladies,  crouching  and  clinging 
together,  and  beseeching  the  gentleman  to  be  careful  how 
he  ventured  into  the  hall,  and  the  rear  was  brought  up 


210  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

by  a  negro  woman,  who  was  flourishing  a  poker  in  one 
hand  and  a  pair  of  bellows  in  the  other,  at  the  same  time 
casting  timorous  glances  behind  her,  as  if  she  were  calcu- 
lating the  chances  of  securing  a  retreat  should  it  become 
advisable. 

"  Silence,  Hector,  silence,  sir !"  exclaimed  the  gentle- 
man, speaking  to  the  cur,  which  slunk  into  a  corner  at 
the  sound  of  his  master's  command,  carrying  with  him 
the  remnant  of  my  hat  which  had  fallen  from  my  head, 
and  which  he  had  been  tearing  and  growling  over. 

"  Get  up,  Sambo,  get  up,  you  stupid  old  fool,"  contin- 
ued the  gentleman,  and  then,  as  Sambo  (for  it  was  the 
negro  servant  who  had  been  holding  me  in  his  terrified 
embrace)  when  thus  commanded,  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
allowed  me  to  do  so  likewise,  his  master  pointed  the 
heavy  horse  pistol  right  at  my  breast,  and  asked  me — 

"  Who  the  d 1  are  you,  sir,  who  has  thus  dared  to 

disturb  me  and  my  family  at  this  untimely  hour?". 

"  I  am  Doctor ,"  said  I,  and  as  I  spoke,  I  heard  a 

suppressed  titter  from  one  of  the  ladies,  while  the  gentle- 
man lowered  the  formidable  weapon  he  held. 

"Doctor ,  eh?"  exclaimed  the  gentleman,  incre- 
dulously, and  no  wonder,  for  I  looked  very  unlike  a 
doctor  or  any  other  respectable  member  of  society,  as  i 
stood  with  my  drenched  clothing  and  bare  head,  the  wer 

hair  streaming  over  my  face.  "  Doctor ,  eh  ?  Well, 

Doctor ,  and  pray  who  gave  }7ou  permission  to  enter 

my  house  in  this  ridiculous  plight,  and  knock  down  my 
servant  ?" 

Again  I  heard  the  suppressed  musical  titter,  and  no 
wonder,  for  the  negro  was  a  great  burly  fellow,  six  feet 
high  and  stout  in  proportion,  who,  to  judge  by  his  phy- 
sical frame  could  have  made  mince  meat  of  a  half  a  dozen 
such  men  as  I. 

"  Yes,  massa,  he  come  runnin'  in  like  a  bull  and 
knock  me  down  and  then  begin  to  kick  my  shins,"  said 
the  negro,  who  would  have  continued  his  story,  had  I 
not  cut  him  short  by  observing  : 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  know  not  who  you  are,  and  I  assure 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  211 

you  nothing  but  the  fury  of  the  storm  would  have  led 
me  to  seek  your  acquaintance  in,  as  you  truly  observe, 
my  present  ridiculous  plight.  As  to  knocking  down 
your  servant,  I  ask  you  whether  it  would  not,  in  your 
own  private  opinion,  be  a  physical  impossibility  on  my 
part ;  he  could,  with  much  greater  ease  have  knocked 
me  back  through  the  doorway  after  I  had  entered  to  beg 
shelter  from  the  tempest." 

I  then  briefly  explained  that  I  had  been  engaged  in 
angling,  and  had  been  unfortunately  caught  by  surprise 
in  the  storm,  and  should  perhaps  have  perished  beneath 
its  violence  had  I  not  seen  the  light  glimmer  through  his 
parlor  window,  and  fought  my  way  with  difficulty  to  the 
house,  and  that  on  the  servant  opening  the  door  a  gust 
of  wind  had  lifted  me  bodily  into  the  hall  while  a  flash 
of  lightning  having  startled  the  negro,  he  had  stumbled 
backwards,  pulling  me  on  the  top  of  him. 

The  old  gentleman,  for  I  could  perceive  now  that  he 
was  considerably  advanced  in  years,  looked  at  me  ear- 
nestly for  a  few  moments,  as  though  satisfying  himself 
whether  or  not  I  was  telling  the  truth,  and.  then,  appa- 
rently satisfied  with  his  scrutiny,  he  came  forward  and 
shook  me  by  the  hand,  saying : 

"  Excuse  me  sir,  I  would  not  refuse  shelter  to  a  dog  on 
such  a  night  as  this.  Mary,  my  love,"  turning  to  speak 
to  one  of  the  young  ladies,  "  go  up-stairs  and  lay  out 
some  dry  clothing,"  and  then  addressing  me,  he  con- 
tinued, "Pray  walk  into  the  parlor  and  take  a  seat  by 
the  fire  and  a  glass  of  warm  spirits  and  water.  Never 
heed  your  wet  clothing,"  seeing  that  I  hesitated.  "In  a 
few  minutes  you  shall  be  provided  with  dry  linen  and  a 
suit  of  clothes.  I  think  they  will  about  fit"  you;  mean- 
while the  girls  shall  brew  you  a  glass  of  hot  toddy. 
Dear  me  !"  he  added,  as  a  violent  gust  of  wind  shook  the 
house,  almost  deadening  the  sound  of  a  heavy  peal  of 
thunder  that  had  just  burst  over  it,  "  it  is  indeed  a  dread- 
ful night." 

I  was  compelled  by  good  natured  force,  wet  as  I  was, 
to  accept  the  proffered  hospitality,  and  in  an  inconceiva- 


212  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

bly  short  space  of  time,  a  smoking  tumbler  of  whiskey 
and  water  was  placed  before  me  on  the  table,  by  the 
younger  of  the  two  girls  who  had  remained  below.  I 
drank  it  off  at  once,  for  I  really  felt  the  need  of  it,  and 
had  scarcely  set  the  tumbler  down  before  the  other  lady 
re-appeared  and  whispered  to  her  father,  who  said : 

"  Now  sir,  if  you  will  go  up-stairs  into  my  dressing- 
room,  you  will  find  everything  requisite  for  a  complete 
change  of  toilette.  Sambo,  you  great  booby,  show  the 
gentleman  up-stairs,"  he  continued,  speaking  to  the 
servant,  "  and  take  care,"  he  added,  with  an  arch  smile, 
"  take  care,  Sambo,  that  he  doesn't  knock  you  down 
again.  If  he  shows  signs  of  fight,  call  on  little  Maggie 
to  help  you." 

I  followed  the  negro  up-stairs  to  a  comfortable  dressing- 
room  where  I  found  everything  necessary  to  effect  a 
complete  change  of  attire,  and  Sambo  having  gathered 
up  my  wet  clothing  for  the  purpose  of  taking  it  to  the 
kitchen  to  be  dried,  I  descended  to  the  parlor  where  the 
old  gentleman,  again  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  introduced 
me  to  his  daughters,  of  whom  I  have  already  stated 
Maggie  was  the  youngest. 

This,  reader,  was  my  first  introduced  to  Margaret 
Fuller. 

The  storm  continued  throughout  the  greater  portion 
of  the  night,  and  finding  that  it  would  be  impossible, 
until  its  force  was  abated,  for  me  to  attempt  to  reach 
home,  I  was  fain  to  accept  the  offer  of  a  spare  bed,  not- 
withstanding I  felt  that  my  wife  would  be  terribly 
alarmed  on  account  of  my  absence,  for  it  was  the  first 
time  since  our  marriage  that  I  had  been  detained  a  whole 
night  from  home. 

However,  there  was  no  alternative,  and  therefore  ] 
determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  job  and  to  be  grate 
ful  for  the  hospitality  that  was  extended  to  me. 

I  found  Mr.  Fuller  a  well-informed  gentleman,  rathei 
garrulous  respecting  his  former  opulence,  yet  still  as  1 
thought,  proud  of  the  philosophy  which  had  taught  him 
to  content  himself — nay,  to  feel  happy — in  his  changed 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  213 

mode  of  life,  and  justly  proud  that  notwithstai  ding  his 
unlocked  for  misfortunes,  not  one  of  his  fellow  mer- 
chants could  say  that  he  owed  them  a  cent.  They  had 
been  so  pleased  with  his  honorable  conduct  that  they 
had  offered  to  advance  money  to  set  him  up  in  business 
again  ;  but  this  he  had  refused  ;  he  felt  old  age  creeping 
upon  him  and  feared  again  to  risk  the  hazards  of  trade. 
He  had  a  competence,  although  a  small  one,  and  he  had 
determined  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  peace 
and  quietness  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 

His  daughters  were  amiable  young  women  ;  the  el- 
dest was  somewhat  stiff  and  reserved  in  her  manners, 
and,  as  I  thought,  seemed  a  little  to  affect  the  "blue 
stocking;"  the  second  was  evidently  domestic  in  her 
habits,  and  both  were  joint  housekeepers  of  the  small 
tenement.  They  were  good  looking  girls  enough,  with- 
out any  pretensions  to  beauty,  and  had  evidently  been 
well  educated  and  were  mistresses  of  various  accomplish- 
ments, as  I  perceived  by  the  pictures  which  adorned  the 
walls,  which  the  old  gentleman  told  me  were  the  work 
of  his  daughters'  hands,  and  by  the  manner  in  which 
they  executed,  by  turns,  several  beautiful  airs  upon  the 
piano-forte — a  remnant  of  former  splendor — and  finished 
with  a  duett  on  the  instrument  to  which  Margaret  added 
her  voice. 

There  was  a  family  resemblance,  and  yet  little  Marga- 
13*  was  unlike  her  sisters ;  she  could  not  be  styled  a 
Beautiful  girl,  but  there  was  a  charm  of  prettiness  and 
of  intellectual  expression,  far  superior  to  the  cold  inanity 
of  mere  beauty,  and  at  the  same  time  there  was  an  ap- 
pearance of  delicacy  about  her  which,  although  it  could 
scarcely  be  called  the  delicacy  of  ill  health,  to  my  prac- 
ticed eye,  betokened  that  she  was  one  that  consumption, 
the  fell  destroyer  of  the  best  and  fairest,  would  seize  as 
his  prey,  were  not  the  utmost  care  taken  of  her  health ; 
still  there  was  an  archness  in  her  laughing  Kae  eye  and 
a  keen  perception  of  the  ludicrous  in  her  quick  glance 
(it  was  she,  the  little  gipsey,  who  had  laughed  at  me 
when  I  was  sprawling  upon  the  floor)  which  led  me  to 


214  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

doubt  whether  or  not  I  was  mistaken,  at  least  I  hoped 
so,  for  her  temperament  was  certainly  one  that  is  rarely 
met  with  in  persons  who  are  constitutionally  inclined  to 
consumption.  After  her  sisters  had  played,  she  took 
her  seat  at  the  piano,  and  executed  several  favorite  airs 
with  extraordinary  skill,  so  much  so  that  I  expressed 
my  surprise,  and  was  really  astonished,  when  the  old 
gentleman  assured  me  that  his  elder  daughters  had  been 
her  only  instructors.  After  a  light,  homely  supper,  the 
family  retired  to  rest,  the  old  gentleman  himself  showing 
me  to  the  room  I  was  to  occupy,  which  was  evidently 
the  best  in  the  house,  and  was,  as  I  imagined,  set  apart 
for  the  accommodation  of  visitors. 

I  arose  early  in  the  morning  and  would  have  imme- 
diately started  for  home;  but  my  hospitable  entertainers 
would  not  allow  me  to  go  without  partaking  of  their 
frugal  breakfast,  and  then,  having  wished  the  ladies 
good  bye,  and  taken  the  liberty  of  a  married  man  and  a 
doctor,  to  kiss  little  Maggie,  the  old  gentleman  walked 
with  me  to  the  place  where  I  had  deposited  my  fishing 
gear,  which  we  easily  found  in  the  clear  daylight,  for  a 
lovely  day  had  followed  the  tempest  of  the  previous 
night.  I  pressed  upon  him  the  acceptance  of  half  my 
load  of  fish,  and  bade  him  good  bye,  he  exacting  a  pro- 
mise that  I  would  follow  up  the  acquaintance  thus 
strangely  formed,  and  I  promising  in  my  turn  that  1 
would  bring  my  wife  to  see  him  and  his  daughters  when 
I  returned  the  hat  he  had  lent  me  in  place  of  the  one 
which  had  been  torn  by  the  watch-dog,  on  condition  that 
he  and  his  daughters  would  do  me  the  honor  of  a  visit 
whenever  they  came  to  New  York. 

From  this  day  our  intimacy  increased,  and  until  his 
death  four  years  afterwards,  he  was  among  the  most  es- 
teemed of  my  personal  friends.  A  short  time  before  his 
death  both  his  daughters  were  married,  and  when  he 
died  they  sold  the  little  property  and  went  westward 
with  their  husbands,  and  after  a  year  or  two  I  lost  sight 
of  them  altogether.  Poor  little  Margaret  had  died  two 
years  before ;  but  I  am  anticipating  my  story. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  215 

I  have  observed,  this  accidental  and  somewhat  unto- 
ward introduction  led  to  an  intimacy.  In  the  course  of 
the  week  I  drove  out  to  Mr.  Fuller's  cottage  with  my 
wife,  and  a  very  pleasant  time  we  had  of  it.  There  was 
a  nice  little  fruit  garden  attached  to  the  cottage,  and  as 
it  was  not  often  that  we  townsfolk  enjoyed  the  enviable 
luxury  of  eating  fruit  fresh  from  the  garden,  rendered 
still  more  delicious  in  consequence  of  its  being  plucked 
with  our  own  hands,  we  could  not  have  half  so  much 
enjoyed  the  most  costly  artificial  /east.  For  the  first 
year  of  our  acquaintance  with  the  Fullers  everything 
went  on  happily  with  them  ;  the  old  man,  to  be  sure,  was 
growing  imperceptibly  more  and  more  feeble  every  day, 
but  his  amiable  daughters  anticipated  his  every  wish, 
and  strove  which  should  exceed  the  other  in  affectionate 
attention  ;  filial  duty  was  in  their  case  truly  a  labor  of 
love. 

Margaret  was,  however,  the  greatest  solace  of  her 
father's  declining  years;  and  when  he  heard  her  light 
step,  or  the  musical  sound  of  her  voice  as  she  came  run- 
ning into  the  parlor,  as  was  her  wont,  with  her  morning 
offering  of  a  boquet  of  the  choicest  flowers  of  the  garden, 
fresh  gathered,  and  the  pearly  dew  still  resting  upon 
their  petuls,  and  placed  them  in  her  father's  hands,  wnile 
she  shook  up  the  pillow  upon  which  he  leaned ;  and  select- 
ing a  book  of  poetry  from  the  book-case — the  old  gentle- 
man was  fond  of  poetry,  especially  of  that  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott — and  choosing  some  favorite  passage,  sat  herself 
down  on  a  low  footstool  by  his  side  and  read  it  aloud  in 
her  soft,  low  musical  voice,  the  poor  old  man's  eyes 
would  glisten,  and  he  would  lay  his  trembling  withered 
hand  upon  his  daughter's  shoulder  and  draw  her  towards 
him,  while  his  features  beamed  with  a  smile  of  unutter- 
able affection. 

Poor,  good,  single-hearted  old  man !  Once  or  twice  I 
was  an  eye-witness  to  this  soul  communion  between  a 
father  and  a  favorite  child,  the  one  apparently  approach- 
ing the  threshold  of  eternity,  the  other  just  opening  like 
the  rose-bud  she  had  gathered  from  the  garden,  into  the 


216  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

first  bloom  of  early  womanhood.  I  thought  there  was 
anxiety — deep,  engrossing  anxiety — mingled  with  the 
look  of  love  he  gave  her,  for  he  believed  that  he  was 
about  to  leave  her,  forever  on  earth,  just  at  the  moment 
when  a  parent's  anxieties  regarding  a  beloved  daughter 
are  most  strongly  called  forth.  He  little  thought  that 
she  was  destined  to  precede  him  into  the  spirit-world, 
and  that  the  rose-bud  she  had  plucked  from  the  paren4 
stem  just  when  it  was  about  to  burst  in  the  full  glory  o* 
its  beauty,  and  which  was  now  doomed  to  wither  and 
perish,  the  withered  leaves  still  retaining  their  fragrance, 
but  their  beauty  forever  fled,  was  emblematical  of  the 
fate  of  his  cherished  child. 

Sometimes,  but  not  often,  for  it  was  seldom  the  old 
man  could  be  persuaded  to  let  Maggy  leave  her  home, 
and  indeed  she  was  always  anxious  about  her  father 
when  absent  from  him,  she  came  to  New  York  and  spent 
a  day  or  two  at  my  house,  and  then  my  wife  would  re- 
turn the  visit,  I  taking  her  to  the  cottage  and  leaving 
her  there  and  returning  to  town,  not  that  there  was  any 
real  occasion  for  my  doing  so,  for  at  that  period  I  was 
not,  unfortunately  for  myself,  overbiirthened  with  pro- 
fessional duties;  but  then  it  would  not  have  looked  well 
for  a  young  physician  to  absent  himself  from  home  for 
days  together;  and  indeed  the  neighbors  must  have 
thought  I  was  most  busily  engaged  and  reaping  a  fortune, 
by  the  manner  in  which  I  bustled  to  and  fro  from  my 
dwelling  house,  sometimes  leaving  in  a  great  hurry  as 
though  called  to  take  part  in  a  consultation  on  some  case 
of  the  greatest  importance,  though  my  hurry  generally 
subsided  when  I  reached  Broadway,  and  after  taking  a 
short  stroll  I  would  return  to  my  house. 

About  this  time,  I  recollect  I  had  to  renew  the  wire 
of  my  night-bell  four  times  in  a  month,  for  I  hired  a  boy 
to  tug  at  it  violently  after  midnight  two  or  three  nights 
in  the  week,  and  the.  little  vagabond  went  to  the  work 
con  amore,  and  broke  the  wires  at  least  once  a  week. 

But  I  must  now  change  the  tone  of  my  story.  Hith- 
erto all  had  gone  on  happily  at  the  cottage  of  the  Fullers 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  217 

but  about  twelve  months  after  my  first  acquaintance  with 
them,  I  noticed  a  change  in  little  Maggie  as  I  always 
called  her,  though  now  she  was  seventeen  years  of  age, 
and  was  just  opening  into  womanhood.  Her  complexion, 
always  pale  and  delicate,  now  assumed  a  still  paler  hue, 
although  with  the  least  exercise,  a  bright  flush  appeared 
in  her  cheeks,  which  made  her  look  enchantingly  lovely ; 
but  I  knew  that  the  pale,  anxious  look,  and  that  flushed 
cheek,  and  the  soft  dark  eyes,  beaming  with  an  unnatural 
lustre,  betokened  the  approach  of  the  insidious  disease 
that  I  had  so  often  feared  and  doubted,  lurked  in  the  con- 
stitution of  the  fair  girl.  She  lost  her  buoyant  spirits, 
and  seldom  romped  and  sported  in  the  garden  and  in  the 
adjacent  fields,  as  she  had  been  accustomed  to  do,  and 
when  she  had  ceased  reading  to  her  father,  and  he  had 
fallen  asleep — soothed  by  the  low  tones  of  her  voice — her 
sisters  told  me  that  they  were  pained  to  witness  the  wist- 
ful gaze  she  would  fix  upon  the  old  gentleman's  face  for 
some  moments,  and  then  she  would  draw  from  her  bosom 
a  miniature  of  her  mother,  which  she  always  wore,  and 
gaze  at  that  with  the  same  fixed,  yearning  attention,  un- 
til the  look  became  abstracted,  and  she  appeared  already 
to  be  holding  communion  with  the  spirit  of  her  deceased 
parent.  Her  elder  sisters  were  aware,  as  well  as  I,  of  the 
nature  of  the  fell  disease  which  threatened  to  blight  her 
young  life  ;  but  neither  they  nor  I  dared  breathe  our  sus- 
picions to  her  father — not  as  yet.  The  too  sudden  shock 
would  have  hurried  him  into  the  grave,  upon  the  thresh- 
old of  which  he  was  even  now  lingering.  Poor  old  man ! 
It  was  not  long  before  he  perceived  that  something  was 
amiss  with  his  favorite  child ;  but  he  thought  she  was  too 
closely  confined  in  attending  upon  him — she  wanted 
more  air  and  exercise — she  must  leave  him  occasionally, 
and  take  longer  walks  in  the  fields,  and  busy  herself  more 
in  the  garden,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do  of  old,  ar.d 
then  she  would  soon  be  well  again.  His  little  lily — so 
he  used  affectionately  to  style  he~: — must  not  injure  her 
own  health  by  too  anxiously  caring  for  her  old  father 
He  would  sooner  see  her  happy  and  cheerful,  even  though 

10 


218  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

he  missed  her  from  his  side  occasionally,  and  Mary  or 
Jane  had  to  take  her  place  in  reading  to  him  ;  and  Mar- 
garet, when  he  spoke  thus,  would  lay  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder  and  sob  aloud,  while  the  old  man  mingled  his 
tears  with  hers.  I  believe  from  the  first,  she  had  a  pre- 
sentiment of  her  untimely  death  ;  and,  poor  child  !  it  was 
hard  to  be  cut  off  so  young  from  the  innocent  enjoyments 
of  life,  and  to  be  laid  in  the  cold  dark  tomb — very  hard 
for  one  possessing  a  disposition  so  gentle  and  loving  as 
was  hers.  But  there  was  yet  another  cause  for  her  grief, 
which  I  had  as  yet  no  suspicion  of,  although  I  shortly  af- 
terwards heard  the  whole  story. 

Mr.  Fuller  had  had  a  partner  in  business  of  the  name 
of  Douglas,  who  had  died  ten  years  before  his  own  diffi- 
culties came  on,  and  Mr.  Douglas,  who  was  a  widower, 
had  a  son  who  at  an  early  age  had  entered  the  United 
States  navy,  as  a  midshipman. 

He  was  some  eight  or  ten  years  older  than  Margaret, 
and  had  been  engaged,  when  little  more  than  a  child,  in 
the  stirring  scenes  of  the  war  of  1812 — 14,  in  which, 
young  as  he  was,  he  had  behaved  with  such  gallantry  as 
to  have  attracted  the  notice  and  received  the  especial 
commendation  of  his  captain.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he 
had  come  home  and  had  spent  some  days  at  Mr.  Fuller's 
residence,  where,  of  course,  his  courage  and  the  distinc- 
tion he  had  gained,  were  themes  of  general  praise  and  ad- 
miration. 

Margaret,  at  this  period,  was  quite  a  child ;  but  still 
of  a  sufficient  age  to  be  interested  in  the  deeds  of  the 
youthful  sailor,  and  of  a  lively,  susceptible  temperament, 
just  fitted  to  associate  those  deeds  with  the  glowing  charm 
of  romance.  The  tales  of  peril  by  storm  and  battle,  he 
was,  as  is  natural  to  all  young  sailors,  fond  of  relating, 
were  to  her  more  interesting  than  the  wonders  of  fairy 
story — for  the  narrator  stood  before  her,  and  her  childish 
imagination  invested  Edmund  Douglas  with  all  the  attri- 
butes of  a  hero.  He  in  his  turn,  was  fond  of  the  little 
girl  who  took  such  interest  in  his  narratives.  To  apply 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  219 

to  them  the  sentiments  Shakespeare  applied  to  lovers  of 
a  riper  age : 

"She  loved  him  for  the  dangers  he  had  passed, 
And  he  loved  her,  that  she  did  pity  them." 

However,  young  Douglas  again  went  to  sea,  and  was 
absent  four  years.  Probably  he  had  forgotten  in  that 
period,  the  little  girl  who  had  been  his  pet  and  plaything 
during  his  brief  stay  on  shore  ;  but  she  had  not  forgotten 
him — and  when  he  returned  from  sea,  she  had  looked  for 
his  visit  with  an  anxiety  that  she  could  have  given  no 
reason  for.  When  he  did  come,  at  last,  greatly  im- 
proved— for  he  was  then  grown  a  handsome  young  man, 
and  his  figure  was  well  displayed  in  his  gay  uniform — she 
admired  him  more  than  ever,  and  Edmund  was  surprised 
and  gratified  to  find  the  child  he  had  left  behind,  and  al- 
most forgotten,  grown  so  tall  and  so  womanly,  as  she  ap- 
peared to  him,  in  comparison  of  his  former  recollection 
of  her,  although  she  was  still  but  a  very  young  girl. 

However,  I  have  not  space  to  dwell  upon  this  portion 
of  my  story.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Edmund  again  went 
away  for  a  short  period  and  again  returned,  and  each 
time  that  he  and  Margaret  met,  they  found  more  to  ad- 
mire in  each  other.  Their  childish  attachment  had  deep- 
ened into  love.  Before  he  had  last  sailed,  just  previous 
to  my  acquaintance  with  the  family,  they  had  told  each 
other's  love,  and  Edmund  had  told  Mr.  Fuller  of  his  wish 
to  make  Margaret  his  wife,  and  the  old  man  had  pro- 
mised that  when  he  had  obtained  his  lieutenancy,  pro- 
vided Margaret  had  then  attained  her  eighteenth  year, 
and  then  they  still  felt  the  same  affection  for  each  other, 
he  would  throw  no  obstacles  in  the  way  of  their  union. 
Indeed  it  was  really  a  good  prospect  for  MargarefrV-for 
the  young  sailor  was  possessed  of  some  little  property  of 
his  own,  and  had  every  prospect  of  rising  rapidly  in  his 
profession. 

Edmund  was  to  return  in  two  years.  One  year  had 
passed  away,  when  Margaret  was  seized  with  the  earliest 
symptoms  of  the  disease,  which  hurried  her  into  a  prema- 
ture grave ;  and  it  was  the  thought  of  her  absent  lover, 


220  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

which  increased  the  sadness  and  the  heart's  desolation  of 
the  poor  girl — for  she  had  just  at  this  time  received  a 
letter  from  him,  dated  from  the  Mediterranean,  stating 
that  the  ship  would  return  in  twelve  months,  and  then  he 
would  obtain  his  lieutenancy,  and  adding  that  he  had 
for  some  months  past  suffered  from  bad  health ;  but  he 
hoped  that  he  was  getting  better,  and  that  as  the  summer 
months  were  approaching,  the  warm  weather  of  that  deli- 
cious climate  would  completely  restore  him  to  health. — 
Margaret  was  greatly  alarmed  on  reading  this  letter.  She 
knew  that  Edmund's  mother  had  died  of  consumption, 
and  that  he  had  showed  symptoms  of  the  disease  in  his 
youth,  arid  that  one  reason  of  his  father  having  con- 
sented to  his  adopting  the  sea  as  his  profession,  was  in 
the  hope  that  the  change  of  climate  and  habits  of  life, 
would  eradicate  the  seeds  of  the  insidious  and  fatal  dis- 
order. 

Margaret  lingered  on  through  the  summer  months,  ap- 
parently but  little  changed.  Then  came  the  autumn, 
with  its  chilling  winds  and  early  frosts,  and  she  grew  ra- 
pidly worse ;  and  then  the  winter — and  she  could  no 
longer  leave  the  room,  and  her  poor  father,  who  had  at 
length  become  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  disease  which 
was  hurrying  his  child  to  the  grave,  was  almost  distracted 
with  grief  on  her  account.  He  could  scarcely  leave  the 
house ;  but  his  weakness  was  occasioned  by  the  gradual 
decay  of  nature,  and  he  felt  no  pain  nor  sickness.  He 
had  his  easy  chair  carried  into  his  daughter's  room,  and 
would  sit  for  hours  by  her  couch.  In  fact,  he  could  sel- 
dom be  induced  by  the  persuasions  of  his  elder  daugh- 
ters to  leave  the  lovely  sufferer,  even  to  take  the  exercise 
necessary  in  his  own  feeble  state  of  health.  She  was  the 
very  apple  of  his  eye — the  delight  of  his  heart — the  child 
of  his  old  age ;  and  for  her  to  be  taken  away  in  the  pride 
of  her  youth  and  beauty,  and  for  him  to  be  left,  appeared 
to  be  too  severe  a  decree  of  providence  to  be  patiently 
borne;  and  the  poor  old  man  would  complain  aloud  at 
the  bitter  dispensation,  until  he  felt  his  child's  thin  hand 
laid  upon  his  arm,  to  attract  his  attention,  and  then  she 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  221 

would  look  up  into  his  face  with  her  deep,  trustful,  loving 
eyes,  and  softly  murmur : 

''  Do  not  grieve  for  me,  my  dear  father.  It  is  hard  to 
leave  Mary  and  Jane,  and  the  beautiful  garden,  and  the 
fields  I  have  so  often  played  in — and — and — Edmund," 
and  her  voice  would  become  almost  choked  with  emo- 
tion, "  but,  then,  I  shall  see  you  and  dear  mama  in  hea- 
ven ;  and  dear  papa,  I  think  Edmund  will  soon  join  us 
in  that  happy  place,  where  we  shall  know  sorrow  and 
sickness  no  more — for  Edmund  cannot  live  without  me. 
I  have  had  a  strange  dream  about  him,  and  he  will  soon 
follow  me,  poor  fellow !  I  could  have  wished  to  have 
lived  a  little  while  longer,  to  have  been  his  happy  wife  ; 
but  we  shall  be  united,  never  to  part,  in  a  better  world ; 
and  by-and-bye  Mary  and  Jane  will  join  us,  and  shall  we 
not  be  happy  then  ?  In  my  dream  I  saw  mama,  and  she 
held  out  her  arms  to  me  and  smiled.  Such  a  sweet 
smile — just  as  she  is  painted  in  the  miniature ;  but  so 
much  happier."  And  the  old  gentleman  listened  to  his 
daughter's  words,  and  he  stooped  his  aged  head  to  kiss 
her,  while  the  tears  stole  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  whis- 
pered, "  I  was  wrong  to  complain,  my  child.  God's  will, 
not  my  will  be  done." 

And  now  the  spring  had  commenced,  and  nature  had 
thrown  off  her  frosty  garb,  and  sprung  into  new  life ;  but 
alas  !  the  enlivening  aspect  of  nature  had  no  reviving  in- 
fluence on  the  health  of  poor  Margaret.  I  had  attended 
her  throughout  her  sickness  ;  but  I  knew  from  the  first, 
that  physic  was  useless  in  her  case,  and  I  foresaw  that 
ere  the  spring  buds  blossomed  into  summer-flowers,  her 
pure  spirit  would  have  sought  a  happier  state  of  exist- 
ence. 

One  morning,  early  in  May,  I  was  sitting  at  the  break- 
fast table,  reading  the  morning  paper,  when  my  atten- 
tion was  arrested  by  seeing  the  notice  of  the  arrival  of 
Edmund's  ship  in  the  stream.  I  immediately  determined 
to  go  and  meet  him  on  board,  and  to  break  the  sad  newa 
to  him.  For  I  feared  the  shock  of  the  meeting  without 
preparation,  would  be  too  much  for  Margaret,  and  I 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

knew  lie  would  immediately  hurry  to  see  her.  One  letter 
only  had  been  sent  to  him  speaking  of  her  illness — for  it 
was  hard  to  know  where  to  direct  letters  to  him  ;  and  we 
thought  it  useless  to  harass  his  mind,  especially  as  we 
heard  that  he  was  in  a  bad  state  of  health'.  Accordingly 
I  hurried  onboard,  and  asked  for  Edmund  Douglas,  and 
was  told  that  he  was  below,  sick,  in  his  hammock.  I  im- 
mediately descended  into  the  cockpit,  and  was  shown  to 
the  side  of  his  cot.  I  had  been  prepared  to  find  him  un- 
well ;  but  I  was  startled  to  find  him  as  he  was — his  once 
fine,  manly  form  reduced  to  a  mere  shadow  of  his  former 
self.  I  saw  that  the  hand  of  death  was  upon  him ;  that 
the  fatal  grasp  was  not  far  distant,  and  I  shuddered 
as  I  thought  of  the  sad  fate  of  the  lovers,  both  lingering 
on  the  very  verge  of  the  grave  that  was  soon  to  close 
upon  their  earthly  hopes,  and  to  dissolve  all  their  dreams 
of  happiness  and  mutual  love.  The  lover  and  his  be- 
trothed were  both  dying  of  the  same  ruthless  disease.  A 
sad  meeting  this,  to  those  who,  a  few  months  before,  had 
looked  forward, to  it  with  such  fond  expectation. 

With  a  sad  heart  I  told  Edmund  of  Margaret's  danger- 
ous condition,  and  he  insisted  on  immediately  seeing  her. 
He  was  able  to  walk  with  assistance,  and,  leaning  upon 
me,  I  led  him  to  the  deck,  and  shortly  after  we  were  put 
on  shore,  when  I  obtained  a  carriage,  and  at  his  urgent 
request  I  at  once  took  him  to  Mr.  Fuller's  cottage,  when, 
leaving  him  in  the  parlor,  I  went  up  to  Margaret's  room 
to  prepare  her  for  the  sorrowful  meeting.  To  my  great 
surprise  she  betrayed  little  emotion,  but  calmly  said — "  I 
•knew  it.  I  have  seen  Edmund  night  after  night  in  my 
dreams,  and  I  am  prepared  to  see  him  now  changed  as  I 
know  he  is." 

The  poor  old  gentleman  and  the  sisters  of  Margaret 
were  in  tears,  and  I  was  so  excited  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  was  doing;  but  I  brought  the  young  sailor  up 
stairs.  Margaret  and  he  alone  were  calm ;  they  took 
each  other's  hands  and  held  them  and  gazed  long  and 
mournfully  into  each  other's  faces — but  neither  spoke. 
At  length  Edmund,  who  had  been  struggling  to  maintain 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  228 

his  composure,  could  no  longer  restrain  his  grief,  and  the 
tears  of  the  hapless  lovers  were  mingled  together.  We 
quitted  the  room  and  left  them  to  themselves ;  grief,  such 
as  theirs — a  meeting  under  such  painful  circumstances, 
was  too  solemn,  too  sacred,  to  be  idly  intruded  upon. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  Margaret's  bell  was  rung, 
and  one  of  her  sisters  having  gone  up  stairs,  she  shortly 
returned,  saying  that  Margaret  wished  to  see  me  and  her 
father. 

The  old  gentleman  was  assisted  like  a  child  into  the 
room  by  the  negro  servant,  and  I  followed  him.  Edmund 
was  sitting  on  the  bed  beside  Margaret,  his  hand  still 
clasped  in  hers  ;  but  both  had  recovered  their  composure. 
Margaret  was  the  first  to  speak : — 

"  Dear  papa,"  she  said  feebly,  "  I  have  one  dying  re- 
quest to  make,  but  first  I  would  ask  Dr. a  question; 

and  I  beg,"  she  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "that  he  will 

not  deceive  me.  Dr. ,  am  I  not  dying?  dying  even 

now  ?  How  long  do  you  think  I  shall  live  ?" 

Mr.  Fuller  burst  into  tears  ;  but  his  daughter  bade  him 
be  comforted,  and  looked  appealingly  to  me  as  though 
awaiting  my  reply. 

"  It  is  more  than  I  can  say,  dear  Margaret,"  I  replied. 
"  I  cannot  deceive  you.  You  are  dying,  but  you  may 
yet  live  some  weeks — nay,  some  months." 

"  And  I  may  die  to-day,"  she  replied.  "  Father,  do  not 
think  my  request  a  strange  one,  and  do  not  refuse  me." 

"  My  child — my  darling  Maggie" — exclaimed  the  poor 
old  man — "  your  father  never  has  refused  your  wishes  ; 
they  have  never  been  such  as  to  call  for  refusal ;  then 
surely  he  will  not  refuse  them  now." 

"  Then,  dear  papa,  I  wish  you  to  send  immediately  for 

Mr. ;  1  shall  not  live  beyond  this  day.  I  wish  to  be 

married  to  Edmund  before  I  leave  this  world.  He  will 
eoon  follow  me,  my  wedded  husband,  to  a  happier  one. 
Will  you  grant  me  my  desire,  dear  papa?" 

I  looked  at  Edmund,  who  did  not  speak,  but  signified 
by  gestures  that  her  wish  was  also  his  own ;  as  to  the 
poor  old  gentleman,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  grief  he 


224  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

sobbed  aloud,  and  at  length  begged  me  to  follow  his 
daughter's  wishes.  The  clergyman  was  sent  for,  he  lived 
but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  and  great  was  his  surprise 
when  he  became  aware  of  the  nature  of  the  sudden  call 
for  his  services.  He  had  always  been  partial  to  Margaret, 
and  his  grief  almost  equalled  that  of  her  father ;  but  he 
promised  to  accede  to  her  request.  The  sisters  were  sum- 
moned, and  in  that  solemn  chamber  of  death  were  the 
two  youthful,  dying  lovers  united.  We  had  forgotten  the 
ring,  and  a  momentary  awkward  pause  ensued,  when  the 
clergyman,  with  trembling  voice,  reached  that  portion  of 
the  solemn  service  where  the  ring  was  required. 

"My  mother's  ring — my  mother's  ring,"  Margaret 
faintly  murmured,  and  one  of  her  sisters  took  the  cher- 
ished memento  from  a  drawer,  and  it  was  placed  by  the 
trembling  hand  of  Edmund  upon  the  slender  finger  of 
his  dying  bride. 


The  solemn  ceremony  was  concluded,  and  all  present 
stood  for  some  moments  silent,  paralyzed  by  the  awful 
solemnity  of  the  scene  they  had  witnessed. 

"  Kiss  me,  Edmund — my  husband,"  said  Margaret,  and 
the  young  man  stooped  to  kiss  her  lips. 

He  did  not  raise  his  head  again,  and  after  waiting  a 
short  time  one  of  the  sisters  approached  the  bed.  She 
gazed  for  a  moment  at  her  sister's  face,  and  then  utter- 
ing a  piercing  shriek,  sank  fainting  upon  a  chair.  The 
truth  was  soon  known  ;  the  trial  had  been  too  much  for 
both  in  their  enfeebled — their  dying  condition.  The 
bridegroom  and  the  bride  were  dead — the  first  kiss  of 
wedded  love  had  been  the  embrace  of  death.  Together 
had  their  spirits  flown,  released  from  the  thraldom  of  the 
flesh  to  cement  and  sanctify  their  union  in  heaven. 

I  have  but  little  more  to  add  respecting  this  mournful 
episode  in  my  life.  The  wedded  lovers  were  buried  in 
one  grave,  and  at  the  time  the  sad  affair  created  great  ex- 
citement among  all  who  had  known  them,  for  all  dropped 
a  tear  of  pity  for  them,  and  sympathized  with  their  dis- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  225 

tressed  friends.  Poor  Mr.  Fuller  never  knew  the  whole 
weight  of  the  grief  that  afflicted  his  daughters.  He  sank 
from  that  hour  to  the  day  of  his  death,  two  years  after- 
wards, into  the  imbecility  of  childhood,  and  lingered  in 
that  state  longer  than  I  had  thought  possible,  considering 
his  feeble  condition. 

After  his  death,  his  two  daughters  resided  for  about  a 
year  in  the  cottage,  and  then,  about  the  same  period,  both 
were  married  to  substantial  farmers  living  out  West,  who 
had  long  sought  their  hands,  but  whom  they  had  previ- 
ously refused,  because  they  would  not  leave  their  aged 
father. 

The  property,  as  I  have  mentioned,  was  sold,  and  short- 
ly after  the  cottage  was  burned  down,  and  the  whole  of 
the  little  estate  was  put  under  cultivation  as  a  farm. 

I  received  but  one  letter  from  the  sisters  after  their 
marriage,  in  which  they  stated  that  they  were  both  well 
and  happy,  but  still  retained  a  keen  remembrance  of  the 
solemn  scene  of  their  sister  Maggie's  marriage  and  death. 
Had  not  my  wife  and  I  both  reason  to  exclaim — 

"  Alas  !  poor  Margaret  Fuller." 
10* 


THE  OLD  DOCTOB;  OR, 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    DEATH-BED    OF   A   MISER. 

IN  the  neighborhood  of  my  residence,  at  a  late  period 
in  the  course  of  my  practice,  there  lived  an  aged,  hag- 
gard, blear-eyed  man,  who  was  an  object  of  mingled  dis- 
gust and  pity  to  everybody  who  saw  him.  Although  a 
close  neighbor  of  mine,  as  I  was  led  to  believe  by  always 
meeting  him  at  an  early  hour  of  the  morning,  if,  per- 
chance, I  happened  to  be  called  for  before  the  sun  had 
risen  and  the  dew  was  off  the  ground,  busily  engaged, 
with  the  aid  of  a  girl  of  perhaps  fifteen  years  of  age,  of 
intelligent  and  engaging  features,  but  as  miserably  atten- 
uated in  frame  as  himself,  gathering  up  the  rags,  waste 
paper  and  offal  that  he  found  in  the  streets,  I  never  could 
discover  the  place  where  he  actually  lived,  although  I, 
and  not  a  few  of  my  neighbors,  who  had  known  him  to 
grope  about  the  streets  after  the  same  fashion  for  years, 
were  somewhat  curious  in  this  respect. 

As  are  to  be  found  in  even  the  most  favored  portions 
of  this  great  city,  there  were  in  our  neighborhood  two 
or  three  of  those  pestilential  looking,  filthy,  narrow 
courts,  reeking  with  slime  and  dirt  of  every  description, 
and  tenanted  by  numerous  wretched  families,  who  lived 
in  a  hopeless  state  of  misery  and  crime,  I  had  naturally 
set  it  down  that  in  one  of  these  miserable  abodes  the  poor 
man  and  his  daughter  lived,  and  that  they  gained  a  mis- 
erable, starvation  pittance  by  the  sale  of  the  refuse  they 
gathered  in  their  morning  walks. 

One  day,  however,  about  four  years  since,  to  my  great 
astonishment  my  curiosity  was  satisfied  in  a  manner  that 
I  little  expected.  I  had  risen  at  an  earlier  hour  than 
usual  to  make  an  early  call  upon  a  patient,  who  was  about 
to  proceed  to  a  sea  bathing  place  for  the  benefit  of  his 
health.  He  was  a  hypochondriac,  and  the  object  of  my 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  227 

call  was  to  furnish  him  before  he  started,  with  a  list  of 
regulations  with  regard  to  the  medicines  he  was  to  take 
and  the  course  of  daily  regimen  he  was  to  follow. 

I  had  scarcely  reached  the  side  walk  in  front  of  my 
dwelling,  before  I  perceived  the  girl,  whose  features  were 
perfectly  familiar  to  me ;  but  to  my  astonishment  she 
was  unaccompanied  by  the  old  man.  She  was  anxiously 
looking  up  at  the  house  as  though  undecided  whether  to 
advance  and  ring  the  bell  or  not.  There  was  an  eager 
ness  in  her  painfully  attenuated  features  and  an  appeal- 
look  in  her  eye  which  in  spite  of  my  hurry  I  could  not 
help  taking  notice  of. 

The  glorious  beauty  of  the  morning,  for  it  was  the 
dawn  of  one  of  the  brightest  days  of  June,  the  healthful 
purity  of  the  atmosphere,  the  brightness  of  the  sky  above 
and  the  peace  and  quiet  that  reigned  at  that  early  hour, 
caused  the  poorly  dressed  and  sickly  looking  girl  to  look 
more  squalid  than  usual — so  utterly  out  of  keeping  was 
her  poverty  stricken  appearance  with  everything  around. 

From  her  anxious  looks  and  her  being  unaccompanied 
by  the  old  man,  it  struck  me  that  he  must  be  sick  and 
that  the  girl  had  been  sent  by  hyn  to  seek  my  advice 
and  assistance,  but  that  in  consequence  of  his  poverty 
she  was  too  timid  to  make  her  desires  known.  Under 
this  impression  I  accosted  her — 

"  Good  morning,  my  poor  girl,  you  are  looking  earn- 
estly at  my  house.  Do  you  wish  to  see  me  ?  Perhaps 
your  father  is  unwell.  If  so,  tell  me  where  I  can  call 
and  if  I  am  able  to  afford  him  any  relief  Twill  do  so  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  My  father  is  sick,  sir — very  sick,"  replied  the  poor 
child,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  '*  He  has  been  ill  now  for 
a  fortnight,  but  he  is  too  poor  to  have  a  doctor,  and  now 
I  have  ventured  out,  without  his  knowledge,  to  beg  you 
to  call  and  see  him." 

"I  will  certainly  call,"  said  I,  "in  the  course  of  the 
day — indeed,  as  soon  as  I  return  from  the  visit  I  am  now 
about  to  make,  which  will  be  in  the  course  of  an  hour ; 
meanwhile  you  can  step  in  and  get  some  breakfast.  I 


228  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

will  tell  the  cook  to  provide  you  with  something  to  eat, 
and  you  shall  accompany  me  to  your  home  on  my  Te- 
turn." 

The  poor  girl's  eyes  glistened  as  I  said  this,  but  she 
said — 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  wait.  I  left  my  father  sleeping 
and  I  must  be  back  home  before  he  wakes,  for  there  is 
no  one  else  to  care  for  him  and  he  is  too  weak  to  move 
— too  weak  even  to  turn  in  his  bed." 

"  You  are  hungry,"  said  I,  greatly  moved  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  poor  thing,  "you  shall  take  some  break- 
fast home  with  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  she  replied,  bursting  into  tears,  as 
if  unused  to  words  of  compassion  and  kindness;  "yes, 
I  am  very  hungry.  Ever  since  my  father  has  been  ill  I 
have  been  so  busy  with  attending  to  him  that  I  have  not 
been  able  to  collect  so  many  rags  as  would  sell  to  supply 
us  with  bread.  I  have  not  eaten  anything  since  yester- 
day morning." 

"  Good  God !"  I  exclaimed.  "  Is  it  possible !  come  in 
with  me ;"  and  passing  in  at  the  area  gate,  I  descended 
to  the  kitchen  and  ordered  the  cook  to  supply  the  poor 
girl  with  as  much  broken  food  as  would  satisfy  her  and 
her  father  for  the  day,  bidding  her  add  such  delicacies 
as  would  likely  tempt  the  appetite  of  a  sick  man. 

"  Do  not  let  your  father  eat  too  much  at  once,"  I  said, 
for  I  suspected  that  want  of  proper  food  was  probably 
the  cause  of  his  sickness,  "and  return  here  after  you 
have  had  your  breakfast  and  I  will  then  accompany  you 
home/' 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two  I  returned  and  found 
the  girl  anxiously  waiting.  I  merely  stopped  to  swallow 
a  hurried  breakfast,  and  then  bid  her  go  before  me  to  the 
abode  of  her  father. 

She  complied  with  alacrity,  and  I  followed  her  along 
two  or  three  streets,  until  she  stopped  before  a  brick 
house  of  considerable  dimensions,  which  might  have 
been  the  abode  of  a  man  of  substance,  had  not  the  dirty 
and  neglected  front  and  the  closed  shutters  suggested 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  229 

the  idea  that  the  house  had  been  for  a  long  time  unten- 
anted.  I  had  often  noticed  the  house  in  passing,  stand- 
ing so  grim,  and  dirty,  and  solitary,  among  the  hand- 
some dwellings  on  either  side,  and  I  had  fancied  that  the 
deserted-looking  tenement  was  probably  involved  in 
some  law-'fcuit,  and  therefore,  having  no  responsible  pro- 
prietor or  tenant,  had  been  left  to  itself,  uncared  for  by 
any  one. 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?"  said  I,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  to 
my  ragged  conductor. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied,  "my  father  lives  here." 
"  How  long  have  you  resided  in  this  house?" 
"Oh,  a  long  time,  sir;  ever  since  I  can  recollect.     I 
believe  I  was  born  here,  but  I  do  not  know." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  the  girl  into  the  house  by  means  of  a  latch  key,  and  I 
followed  her  into  the  dwelling.  If  I  had  been  surprised 
by  the  outward  appearance  of  the  domicile,  and  the  in- 
congruity there  appeared  in  a  man  who  was  evidently  a 
pauper  tenanting  a  house  of  such  dimensions,  I  was  still 
more  astonished  at  the  aspect  of  the  interior.  It  was 
wholly  devoid  of  furniture,  and  the  lofty  hall  rung  with 
the  echo  of  my  footsteps  with  that  peculiar  sound  notice- 
able in  an  untenanted  dwelling.  The  girl  carefully 
closed,  and  then,  as  if  mechanically,  double-locked  the 
door,  and  begged  me  to  follow  her  up  the  carpetless  and 
unwashed  stairs. 

"We  ascended  flight  after  flight  until  we  reached  the 
uppermost  story,  when  she  opened  the  door  of  a  small 
attic,  which  seemed  to  be  both  the  sitting-room  and  bed- 
room— indeed,  the  only  occupied  room  in  the  vast  house. 
The  furniture — but  it  is  a  misnomer  to  call  it  furniture — 
was  of  the  scantiest  and  most  wretched  description,  con- 
sisting of  a  couple  of  rush-bottomed  chairs,  the  bottoms 
of  which  had  given  way,  and  clung  with  a  very  slendei 
tenure  to  the  ricketty  frames;  a  truckle  bed,  upon 
which,  covered  with  a  heap  of  rags,  lay  a  feeble  and 
emaciated  old  man,  whom  I  immediately  recognized  as 
the  well-known  street-scavenger;  a  mat  on  the  floor, 


230  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

upon  which  another  heap  of  rags  was  rolled  up,  it  being, 
as  I  surmised,  the  sleeping  place  of  the  girl ;  an  old  deal 
table,  upon  which  lay  the  remains  of  the  food  I  had 
given  the  girl  in  the  morning;  and  a  few  household 
utensils  of  the  coarsest  and  cheapest  description.  The 
solitary  window  had  several  of  the  panes  shattered,  and 
stuffed  with  rags  and  paper.  A  musty,  death-like  smell 
pervaded  the  wretched  place ;  and,  altogether,  it  was  the 
most  abject-looking  apartment  into  which  I  had  ever  set 
my  feet. 

"  Who  is  that?"  asked  the  old  man,  sharply,  and  with 
a  querulous,  though  feeble  tone ;  and  then,  seeing  the 
girl,  he  added,  "  Is  that  you,  Mary  ?  Where  have  you 
been  to,  girl?  I  have  been  wanting  you  to  turn  me  in 
bed  ;  but  so  it  is,  no  sooner  am  I  laid  up  than  you  are 
off  gadding  about.  You  care  nothing  for  your  sick 
father,  and  have  almost  starved  me  to  death." 

"  Father,  I  get  what  food  I  can,  and  I  cannot  be  long 
away  now  that  you  are  sick  to  look  after  rags  and  paper 
to  sell.  To-day  I  brought  you  a  nice  breakfast,  did  I  not  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  you  begged  for  it.  I  told  you  to 
beg  long  ago ;  but  you  would  not,  though  your  poor 
father  was  starving." 

"  Father,  I  cannot  beg.  That  food  was  voluntarily 
given  me  by  a  gentleman  upon  whom  I  called,  asking 
him  to  come  and  see  you  now  that  you  are  sick — " 

"  What  ?"  almost  shrieked  the  old  man,  as  he  made  a 
convulsive  effort  to  raise  himself  upon  the  wretched  pallet. 
"You  asked  a  stranger  to  come  here  ?"  And  then,  for 
the  first  time  perceiving  me,  he  exclaimed :  "  Who  is 
this  ?  Who  have  you  asked  to  come  here,  Mary  ?" 

"It  is  Doctor ,  father,  who  lives  in street, 

near  by.  He  has  called  to  see  if  he  can  do  any  thing 
for  you.  It  was  he  who  gave  me  the  victuals  this 
morning." 

"  Doctor !  I  want  no  doctors— I  cannot  pay  for 

them.  I  have  not  money  to  supply  myself  with  neces- 
sary food.  How  dare  you,  girl,  ask  a  doctor  to  com« 
and  visit  me." 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  231 

The  poor  child  did  not  reply,  and  I  stepped  to  the 
bed-side  of  the  old  man,  and  informed  him  that  I  would 
attend  him  gratuitously,  and  see  if  I  could  not  get  him 
removed  into  the  hospital. 

"I  cannot  pay  for  the  medicines  you  may  order," 
said  he,  "  and  I  will  not  go  to  an  hospital  to  be  killed. 
I  cannot  leave  this  house.  Go  away,  sir,  go — Mary,  see 
the  gentleman  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  house,  and  lock 
the  door.  I  shall  soon  get  well  without  the  aid  of  a 
doctor — nay,  I  am  better  to-day,  see — "  and  he  made  a 
vain  attempt  to  rise. 

"  You  are  very  ill,"  said  I  sternly,  for  I  saw  it  was 
useless  for  me  to  argue  with  the  wretched  old  man ; 
"  and  if  you  do  not  have  the  assistance  of  a  physician  and 
take  such  restoratives  as  are  ordered  by  him,  I  can  as- 
sure you  that  you  will  never  be  removed  from  that  bed 
in  life  again." 

"How!  what!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  terrified  voice; 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  dying  ?  Pshaw !  you 
wish  to  frighten  me.  I  can't  die — I  won't  die.  Go  sir — • 
go.  You  are  an  impostor.  You  want  to  rob  me  of  my 
hard  earnings — no — no — /  have  no  money  ;  nothing.  I 
have  no  money  to  give  you,  sir,  and  I  know  the  world 
too  well  to  believe  your  trumped  up  tale  of  charity. 
You  are  in  league  with  my  daughter  to  kill  me — so  that 
she  can  get  clear  of  the  duty  of  attending  upon  her  aged 
father,  and  then  when  I  am  dead  you  will  purchase  my 
body  of  her  for  your  cursed  dissecting-room.  Oh !  I 
know  you  gentlemen  well." 

"  Fat/ier"  said  Mary,  reprovingly,  "  I  know  you  are 
very  ill,  and  /  sought  out  this  gentleman  of  my  own 
accord,  and  he  said  he  would  come  and  do  what  he 
could  for  you.  I  have  told  you,  father,  it  was  he  who 
gave  me  the  food  I  brought  home  this  morning." 

"  Well,  well,  I  am  obliged  to  him  for  that ;  God 
knows  I  want  food  and  charity.  Now,  sir,"  turning 
his  head  to  me,  "Now,  sir,  go  home  and  leave  me 
alone;  there  is  nothing  in  this  house  to  tempt  you  to 
a  second  visit." 


THE   OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

"iVothing,  indeed,"  I  mentally  exclaimed,  "except 
it  be  to  serve  that  poor  child,  who  is  far  too  good  and 
too  dutiful  to  be  linked  with  such  an  unnatural  parent." 
Then  speaking  aloud,  and  addressing  the  sick  man,  I  said 
"  I  am  willing  to  visit  you  here  ;  but  mark  this — common 
decency  and  humanity  will  not  allow  me  to  leave  you 
to  die — and  if  you  refuse  what  my  charity  offers  you, 
although  it  is  undeserved,  I  shall  call  upon  the  proper 
authorities,  and  insist  upon  having  you  conveyed  to  the 
hospital.  Now  choose — which  shall  it  be  ?" 

"  Oh,  call  here,  then.  I  cannot  leave  the  house — I 
cannot  go  to  the  hospital — but  I  have  nothing  to  give 
you — I  cannot  pay  you — I  never  shall  be  able  to  pay 
you.  When  I  get  well,  I  shall  have  enough  to  do  to  earn 
bread  for  myself  and  my  daughter." 

Taking  hold  of  the  old  man's  feeble  pulse,  I  found 
that  he  was  in  almost  the  last  stage  of  physical  decay, 
partly  the  effect  of  years,  for  he  must  have  seen  at  least 
seventy  summers,  but  owing  still  more  (I  suspected) 
to  voluntary  deprivation  of  the  actual  necessities  of  life, 
for  I  also  suspected  that  the  old  man,  poor  though  he 
might  be  and  no  doubt  was,  was  one  of  those  wretched 
beings  who  for  the  love  of  money  will  endure  every 
privation,  and  submit  even  to  be  brought  by  starvation 
to  the  very  jaws  of  death,  sooner  than  spend  their  gold. 

I  knew  that  he  never  would  recover,  and  my  heart  bled 
for  the  poor  child.  Taking  out  my  pencil  and  tablets,  I 
wrote  a  prescription  and  slipped  it  and  a  dollar  into  the 
hands  of  the  girl,  bidding  her  procure  such  restoratives  as 
I  had  ordered,  and  to  see  that  her  father  took  them;  and 
then  addressing  the  old  man,  I  told  him  that  if  I  found 
he  did  not  take  the  medicine  provided  for  him,  I  would 
fulfil  my  threat,  and  see  that  he  was  cared  for  in  the  hos- 
pital. 

I  then  left  the  house,  promising  the  girl  I  would  call 
on  the  following  day.  As  I  returned  home  I  ruminated 
on  the  singularity  of  an  old  man,  apparently  so  poverty 
stricken,  occupying  such  a  house,  and  also  upon  the  style 
of  his  conversation,  which,  rude  and  abrupt  as  it  was, 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  238 

was  evidently  that  of  a  man  who  in  his  youth  had  re- 
ceived some  education.  Even  the  girl  had  learned  this 
refinement  of  tone  and  language  from  her  father,  and 
spoke  with  a  purity  of  diction  seldom  found  among  those 
of  her  class. 

The  next  day  I  called,  and  found  that  my  threat  of 
removal  had  had  the  desired  effect ;  the  old  man  was 
much  better,  but  still  it  was  evident  to  me  that  although 
he  might  linger  for  some  time,  his  thread  of  life  was  un- 
ravelled and  well  nigh  broken,  and  that  he  would  never 
rise  from  his  bed  again. 

The  young  girl  in  a  few  days  showed  evidence  of  the 
effects  of  better  living.  She  was  a  kind,  quiet,  gentle 
creature,  and  in  the  event  of  her  father's  death  I  deter- 
mined to  exert  myself  to  do  something  for  her.  To  my 
astonishment,  however,  after  some  days  a  more  speedy 
relapse  than  i  had  expected  took  place  in  my  patient,  and 
even  the  girl  began  again  to  lose  her  healthy  appearance. 
I  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  it,  until,  upon  questioning 
her,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  begging  me  not  to  tell  her 
father  that  she  had  told  me,  she  informed  me  that  the  old 
man  had  for  the  last  week  compelled  her  to  go  abroad, 
after  my  visits,  and  sell  the  medicine  and  food  that  I  had 
provided — scarcely  retaining  enough  of  the  latter  to  keep 
them  from  starvation.  She  had  given  him  the  trifling 
pittance  it  brought,  but  she  knew  not  what  he  had  done 
with  the  money. 

I  told  her  on  no  account  to  do  this  again,  and  sternly 
told  the  old  man  that  if  I  found  my  treatment  of  his 
case  did  him  no  service,  I  should  certainly  in  a  day  or 
two  see  that  he  was  conveyed  to  the  hospital.  I  would 
have  insisted  upon  this  at  once,  but  that  my  curiosity 
was  aroused ;  and  under  the  belief  that  he  had  money 
concealed  in  the  dwelling,  and  knowing  that  he  could  not 
live  long,  I  was  desirous  of  obtaining  it  for  his  child. 

For  a  tew  days,  matters  progressed  more  favorably  with 
my  patient  and  his  poor  child,  but  about  a  fortnight  aftei 
I  was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  the  latter.  She  begged 
me  to  come  to  her  father  directly.  He  had  risen  from 


234  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

his  bed  while  she  was  absent,  and  on  her  return  she  found 
him  stretched  on  the  floor  speechless.  The  effort  had 
been  too  much  for  him,  and  she  feared  he  was  dying.  I 
hastened  with  her  to  the  old  man's  dwelling.  It  was  as 
she  said.  At  one  glance  I.  saw  that  for  some  purpose,  to 
me  unknown,  he  had  risen  from  the  bed  and  had  fallen 
and  sprained  his  back,  hurting  himself  inwardly  in  so 
serious  a  manner,  that  in  his  feeble  condition,  it  would 
prove  fatal.  He  had  partially  recovered  his  speech,  al- 
though his  language  was  almost  unintelligible.  He  had 
rolled  over  on  his  back,  and  his  hands  were  clutched  to- 
gether, fanning  the  air  as  he  jerked  to  and  fro  in  his  dy- 
ing agony. 

"I — will — not — die,"  he  feebly  uttered  in  disjointed 
words  ;  "  I  cannot — leave  my  gold.  Go — go — Doctor  1 
want — no,  Doctor — you  want — my  gold — you  would  rob 
me — my — child  would  rob  me.  Oh !  my  gold  ! — my 
money — I  can — not  take — my — money — with  me,"  he 
gasped  forth,  and  with  one  convulsive  shudder,  stretched 
out  his  attenuated  limbs  and  expired. 

Nature  would  assert  her  sway,  and  ill  used  as  the  poor 
child  had  been — abused  and  half  starved  ;  her  grief,  when 
she  found  her  father  was  really  dead,  was  distressing  to 
witness.  Poor  thing !  He  was  her  father,  brute  and 
miser — miserable  worm  that  he  was.  He  was  the  only 
tie  she  had  in  this  world,  and  she  mourned  his  loss  as 
deeply  as  though  he  had  been  to  her  all  that  a  father 
ought  to  have  been. 

I  endeavored  to  comfort  her,  and  having  partially  suc- 
ceeded, I  left  the  house  in  order  to  procure  assistance,  and 
to  arrange  for  the  interment  of  the  dead  body. 

On  my  return  with  the  necessary  persons,  the  old  man 
was  lifted  on  to  the  bed  and  the  body  straightened.  The 
hands  were  unclenched,  and  closely  clutched  in  the  palms 
were  found  twenty-six  shillings  in  small  coins,  which  had 
probably  been  the  fruits  of  the  food  and  medicine  he  had 
compelled  his  daughter  to  sell.  This  money  he  had  no 
doubt  held  in  his  hands  in  bed,  until  on  the  day  of  his 
death  he  had  determined  to  hide  it  with  his  other  hoarded 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  235 

wealth.  Such  at  least  was  my  impression.  I  therefore 
set  a  watchman  in  the  house  upon  whose  honesty  I  could 
implicitly  rely,  and  myself  locking  the  door  of  the  room 
in  which  the  dead  body  lay,  I  took  the  key  in  my  pock- 
et, and  removed  the  girl  to  a  boarding  house  near  at 
hand. 

After  the  funeral,  I,  with  proper  persons,  the  girl  be- 
ing also  present,  instituted  a  thorough  search  in  the  ex- 
pectation of  finding  money,  although  I  did  not  expect 
the  sum  would  be  a  large  one. 

For  a  long  time  our  search  was  unsuccessful.  The  girl 
declared  that  although  she  sometimes  thought  her  father 
had  money,  she  had  never  seen  more  than  a  few  cents  in 
his  possession,  and  had  never  seen  him  hiding  any. 

At  length,  after  searching  every  possible  and  impossi- 
ble nook  and  corner  in  which  money  could  be  stowed 
away,  the  thought  struck  me  to  have  the  planks  removed 
upon  which  the  old  man  lay  when  he  had  fallen  on  rising 
from  his  bed.  One  of  these  planks  we  discovered  was 
easily  raised,  a  hole  having  been  cut  in  the  plaster  of  the 
wall  where  it  was  inserted,  and  through  which  it  extend- 
ed into  the  flooring  of  another  apartment.  In  this  spot 
it  had  been  severed,  and  on  being  lifted  up  a  vast  pile  of 
canvas  bags  containing  gold  and  silver  coins  of  all  de- 
scriptions was  discovered,  but  no  paper.  It  seemed  that 
the  old  man  converted  all  his  money  into  hard  coin.  The 
money  was  taken  out  and  counted  in  the  presence  of  the 
parties  assembled,  and  found  to  reach  the  incredible 
amount  of  twenty-seven  thousand  and  some  odd  dollars. 

This,  of  course,  belonged  to  the  girl,  who  was  thus  sud- 
denly raised  from  a  condition  of  penury  to  that  of  an 
heiress.  On  making  the  subsequent  inquiries,  it  was 
found  that  the  house  was  also  the  property  of  the  old 
man,  and  that  he  had  lived  in  this  wretched  condition 
ever  since  the  death  of  his  wife,  shortly  after  the  birth 
of  his  daughter.  He  had  belonged  to  one  of  the  most 
respectable  families  of  a  neighboring  state,  and  had,  up- 
on coming  of  age,  come  into  possession  of  considerable 
property.  Until  the  death  of  his  wife  he  had  been  noted 


286  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

as  a  spendthrift  of  the  most  extravagant  description  ;  but 
from  some  cause  unknown,  his  disposition  had  suddenly 
undergone  a  change,  and  he  had  since  lived  a  life  of  the 
greatest  miserhood  and  wretchedness — starving  both  him- 
self and  his  child ;  and  when  he  grew  feeble,  submitting 
to  the  most  disgusting  habits  for  the  purpose  of  adding 
daily  a  few  cents  to  his  hoard.  Like  many  misers,  he 
had  preferred  keeping  his  money  in  his  own  possession 
to  placing  it  out  at  interest,  living  in  perpetual  fear  that 
if  it  were  out  of  his  sight  it  might  be  stolen  from  him. 
Possessed  with  the  like  strange  infatuation  that  if  he  let 
the  house,  which,  as  I  have  said,  was  his  own,  to  a  tenant, 
he  might  not  get  the  rent,  he  had  preferred  living  in  it: 
thus  submitting  to  a  positive  loss  for  the  sake  of  clutch- 
ing his  gains  in  his  own  hands,  after  the  fashion  of  most 
of  his  tribe. 

The  poor,  neglected  child  was  sent  to  school,  and  is 
still  there ;  his  money  being  in  trust  for  her.  Such  was 
the  end  of  one  of  the  most  detestable  misers  that  ever 
existed ;  one  of  a  class  of  men  who  are,  happily,  more 
rarely  met  with  in  this  country  than  in  any  other  country 
in  the  world. 

The  affair  made  some  little  stir  at  the  time ;  but  it  was 
hushed  up  as  much  as  possible,  at  the  desire  of  some  of 
the  old  man's  distant  relatives,  and  has,  I  believe,  never 
before  been  given  so  fully  to  the  public.  As  I  have  given 
no  names,  it  can  now  occasion  no  annoyance  to  any  one ; 
and  I  only  publish  it  as  one  of  the  singular  scenes  to 
which  a  physician  is  often  witness  during  the  course  of 
his  practure. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  237 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE   DEATH    OF    THE    FIRST-BORN   SON. 

MANY  years  ago,  having  occasion  to  visit  the  state  of 
Arkansas — then  much  more  of  a  wilderness  than  it  is  at 
present — for  the  purpose  of  inspecting  and  surveying 
some  waste  land  that  had  fallen  to  me  through  the  death 
of  a  relative  who  had  it  bestowed  upon  him  as  a  mark 
of  favor  for  services  rendered  to  the  government,  during 
the  war  of  1812-'14,  I  put  up  at  a  way-side  house,  kept 
by  a  man  who  united  the  occupations  of  tavern-keeper 
and  planter — that  is  to  say,  who  gave  lodging, -such  as  it 
was,  and  food,  such  as  could  be  obtained,  to  the  wayfar- 
ing travellers  in  that  remote  district,  for  a  remuneration 
that  should — had  it  been  measured  by  that  usually 
paid  in  more  cultivated  States — have  supplied  both 
lodging  and  food  of  much  better  condition  and  quality. 

It  was  evening  when  I  drew  near  to  the  location  of 
this  inhospitable  house  of  entertainment,  and  I  was  still 
some  miles  distant  from  the  county  town  of  Hot  Spring, 
in  the  county  of  that  name,  in  which  the  land  was  situ- 
ated. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  aspect,  cold,  cheerless  and 
uninviting,  that  would  have  tempted  me  to  remain,  late 
as  it  was,  had  it  not  been  that  for  some  hours  a  heavy 
rain  had  been  falling — plash — plash — in  large  drops,  that 
fell  perpendicularly  from  the  sluice-gates  of  the  heavens, 
suggesting  the  idea  of  a  second  deluge,  while  the  dark, 
leaden-colored  sky  showed  no  symptoms  of  the  proba- 
bility of  the  rain-storm  subsiding  during  the  night.  In-. 
deed  it  seemed  the  commencement  of  one  of  those  heavy 
rains  which  often  fall  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  especially 
in  the  far  West,  and  which  continue,  uninterrupted  by 
a  glimpse  of  sunshine,  for  days  together.  For  some 
miles  I  had  ridden  (for  I  was  on  horseback,)  through  a 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

perfect  quagmire,  and  ray  progress  several  times  had 
been  greatly  delayed  in  consequence  of  the  hoofs  of  my 
poor  horse  having  frequently  sunk  so  deeply  into  the 
mud,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  extricate  them. 
Every  now  and  then  I  had  been  also  delayed  by  streams 
of  water  rushing  across  the  road,  through  which  it  was 
necessary  to  ford,  often  up  to  the  belly  of  the  poor,  jaded 
animal,  although  the  task  was  attended  with  both  diffi- 
culty and  danger,  and  many  times  I  feared  that  I  should 
be  lost  in  the  wilderness,  or  perish  in  the  morass. 

To  get  on  to  Hot  Spring,  therefore,  was  out  of  the 
question,  until  the  storm  had  subsided,  and  it  was  with 
no  little  satisfaction  that  I  hailed  this  way -side  inn,  which 
at  any  other  time  or  under  any  other  circumstances,  I 
should  have  passed  by  with  unconcern  or  contempt. 

I  drew  up  at  the  door,  and  cheerless  as  had  been  the 
aspect  of  the  place  at  a  distance,  it  looked  still  more 
cheerless  on  a  near  approach.  The  house  was  a  mere  log- 
cabin,  with  the  interstices  between  the  timbers  closed  up 
with  mud,  which  now  was  thoroughly  saturated  with 
the  rain,  and  here  and  there  had  fallen,  leaving  a  wide 
gap  open  to  the  winds  of  heaven.  It  was  inclosed  in  a 
piece  of  land,  perhaps  an  acre  in  extent,  rudely  fenced  in 
with  cedar  sticks,  and  covered  with  a  scanty  growth  of 
vegetables.  A  couple  of  cows  were  munching  a  heap  of 
damp  hay,  which  had  been  thrown  to  them — for,  alas ! 
herbage  there  was  little  or  none  for  the  poor  beasts  to 
crop,  and  looking  as  stoically  philosophical,  amidst  their 
evident  discomfort,  as  these  patient  animals  usually  do. 
^  herd  of  pigs,  less  patient  and  less  philosophical,  were 
giving  vent  to  their  dissatisfaction  by  a  succession  of 
grunts,  as  they  poked  their  noses  into  the  soil  with  that 
vain  hope  of  something  turning  up  for  the  better,  which 
is  so  often  the  only  solace  of  men  as  well  as  porkers ; 
while  a  solitary  horse,  the  very  picture  of  misery  and  fa- 
mine, was  stamping  its  hoofs,  shaking  its  wet,  shaggy 
and  unkemped  mane  and  fetlocks,  and  poking  its  head 
over  the  fence,  wheezing  and  neighing,  and  looking  the 
very  personification  of  brute  distress. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  239 

No  landlord  was  ready  at  the  door  to  welcome  the  way- 
worn traveller,  and  I  had  to  repeat  my  summons  two  or 
three  times  before  the  door  was  opened. 

At  length  I  made  myself  heard,  and  a  gaunt,  sallow- 
looking  individual  made  his  appearance. 

"Can  I  rest  here  for  the  night?"  I  inquired  of  the 
man. 

"  Where  are  you  from?"  was  his  reply. 

"I  am  from  New  York,"  I  answered;  "but  for  the 
last  two  days  I  have  travelled  on  horseback,  it  having 
been  impossible,  by  any  other  method  of  conveyance,  to 
get  over  the  abominable  roads.  The  rain  has  fallen,  as> 
you  must  know,  in  a  soaking  shower  for  the  whole  day, 
and  I  and  my  poor  beast  are  completely  saturated,  and  ut- 
terly worn  out.  I  presume,"  continued  I,  pointing  to  a 
sign  which  offered  '  good  entertainment  for  man  and 
horse,'  "  that  here  I  can  procure  at  least  temporary  ac- 
commodation— for  it  will  be  out  of  the  question  for  me 
to  proceed  further  to-night." 

"  And  where  may  you  be  going?"  was  the  response  to 
this  appeal  of  mine. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,"  I  hastily  replied,  "  if  you  can 
give  me  and  my  horse  shelter,  say  so  at  once,  or  let  us 
seek  it  elsewhere,  if  it  can  be  obtained.  Can  you  not  see 
that  the  rain  is  falling  heavily  while  you  are  engaged  in 
those  useless  questionings.  Tell  me  at  once.  Can  you 
accommodate  my  horse  and  myself  for  the  night?" 

"You  hadn't  need  be  captious,  stranger,"  replied  the 
imperturbable  landlord.  "  I  calculate  you  can  get  off  your 
beast  and  bring  it  into  the  yard,  and  then  you  can  get 
what  the  house  will  afford." 

"  Then  take  my  valise,"  said  I,  unloosing  a  small  trunk 
from  the  saddle,  I  having  packed  up  a  change  of  cloth- 
ing, and  carried  it  knapsack-fashion  behind  me,  on  find- 
ing it  necessary  to  take  to  an  equestrian  conveyance. 

"  Here,  Joe — Joe  ?  where  the  mischief  is  Joe  ?  Come 
here  and  kitch  a  hold  of  this  stranger's  plunder,"  ex- 
claimed the  man,  not  offering  to  stir  himself  from  be- 
neath the  shelter  of  the  projecting  cover  of  the  door- way, 


240  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

and  in  a  few  minutes  a  shock-headed  hobble-de-hoy,  of 
eighteen  or  nineteen,  came  shuffling  out,  rubbing  hi? 
eyes,  as  though  he  had  just  wakened  from  sleep,  and  la- 
zily taking  the  valise  from  me,  went  with  it  into  the 
house. 

"  Now  you  can  get  down  and  come  in,  stranger,'  said 
the  landlord,  "  and  Joe  will  see  arter  your  critter." 

"But  where,"  I  asked,  "is  my  horse  to  be  placed  un- 
der shelter  and  cared  for  ?  I  see  no  stable  nor  any  other 
convenience." 

"Oh,  Joe  will  turn  the  critter  adrift  into  the  paddock, 
and  throw  him  a  bundle  of  hay,  and  he'll  do  well  enough, 
I  guess." 

"But,"  said  I,  "I  must  see  the  poor  brute  better  cared 
for  than  that.  Have  you  no  place  where  he  can  be  put 
under  cover,  and  rubbed  down  ?" 

"You're  migh-ty  careful  of  that  ere  critter  of  yourn," 
said  the  landlord.  "Joe '11  lead  him  under  the  ledge- 
roof  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  he'll  do  well  enough 
there,  I  calculate.  If  not,  you  must  go  ahead  and  look 
for  better  fixings." 

Seeing  that  I  could  make  nothing  better  of  the  man,  I 
was  fain  to  put  up  with  the  accommodation  he  was  will- 
ing to  afford ;  and  therefore  delivering  up  my  horse  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  Joe,  who  now  again  shuffled  out,  after 
having  been  an  unconscionably  long  time  in  disposing  of 
my  valise,  I  entered  the  uninviting  and  inhospitable 
dwelling. 

"Let  me  have  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,"  I  said; 
"for  I  am  thoroughly  soaked,  and  even  fearful  of  catch- 
ing cold." 

"  You'll  find  brandy  there,"  said  the  landlord,  point- 
ing to  a  deal  bench,  upon  which  stood  a  demijohn,  a  bot- 
tle or  two,  and  three  tumblers,  together  with  a  huge 
pitcher  of  water;  and,  having  thus  delivered  himself,  he 
squirted  a  quantity  of  tobacco  juice  from  his  mouth  into 
the  earthen  floor,  and  disposed  himself  to  his  philosophi- 
cal observation  of  the  apparently  interminable  rain.  I 
helped  myself  to  a  strong  glass  of  the  invigorating  bever- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  241 

age,  and  then  stepped  out  the  back  way  to  see  my  horse. 
Having  bribed  Joe  with  a  quarter,  to  make  the  poor  ani- 
mal as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  promised  him  ano- 
ther quarter  in  the  morning,  if  he  acquitted  himself  to 
my  satisfaction,  I  returned  to  the  main  room  of  the 
dwelling,  and  asked  for  something  to  eat. 

"  We've  done  dinner  two  hours,  stranger,"  replied  mine 
host ;  "  but,  I  guess  the  old  woman  will  get  some  buck- 
wheat cakes  and  a  slice  of  pork  ready,  bym-bye,  if  you're 
a  mind  to." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  I  replied,  "  let  me  have  something 
to  eat,  whatever  it  be,  and  then  I  will  go  to  bed ;.  for  I 
am  thoroughly  wearied." 

The  landlord  rose  from  his  chair,  and  proceeding,  as  I 
presume,  to  the  apartment  that  was  occupied  as  a  kitchen, 
he  gave  the  necessary  orders,  and  returned. 

Meanwhile  I  sought  to  draw  him  into  conversation, 
which  was  by  no  means  difficult,  when  once  he  had  sat- 
isfied his  curiosity  as  to  who  I  was,  what  had  brought 
me  all  the  way  from  New  York,  and  whither  I  was 
going. 

I  learnt  from  him  that  he  owned  I  don't  know  how 
many  hundred,  or  perhaps  thousands  of  acres  of  uncleared 
land  in  the  vicinity,  a  very  small  portion  of  which  had 
been  brought  under  partial  cultivation,  partly  owing  to 
the  difficulty  of  draining,  felling  trees,  and  fencing,  and 
partly  to  his  disappointment  in  the  bargain  he  had 
made. 

He  belonged  to  one  of  the  New  England  states — I  for- 
get now  which,  and  had  swapped  a  small  farm  down 
Eas£,  for  this  wild  waste  of  wilderness,  and  had  removed 
hither  with  his  wife  and  son — Joe — to  whom  I  had  been 
introduced,  and  his  daughter,  a  year  or  two  older,  who 
formed  his  sole  household.  He  had  not  found  the  change 
so  agreeable  as  he  had  expected.  At  that  time  it  was  a 
difficult  thing  to  procure  farm  hands  in  that  remote  re- 
gion, and  he  therefore  depended  entirely  upon  his  own 
ana  his  son's  industry,  which,  I  presume,  came  only  in 
fits  and  starts,  and  he  eked  out  a  scanty  subsistence  by 

11 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

providing  wretched  lodgings  and  scanty  entertainment, 
to  any  wayfarers  whom  their  unlucky  stars  might  lead 
to  his  dolorous  neighborhood. 

"  Have  you  any  other  lodgers  in  the  house  at  pres- 
ent?" I  asked,  after  having  listened  patiently  to  the 
landlord's  explanation  of  the  state  of  his  affairs  and  his 
future  prospects. 

"  There's  a  man  and  woman  up  stairs  sleeping,  in  the 
next  room  to  that  you  will  occupy,"  said  he,  "  and  they've 
got  a  child  with  them,  who's  sick,  and  as  I  take  it,  be 'ant 
long  for  this  world.  They've  been  a  stopping  here  since 
yesterday,  and  when  the  weather  clears  up,  they  are  go- 
ing West,  to  settle  on  some  land  they  have  bought  out 
there ;  but  they  take  on  sadly  about  the  child,  and  sel- 
dom leave  their  room."  ''  Going  West !"  I  mentally  ejacu- 
lated. "  Good  heavens  !  are  they  not  sufficiently  far  to  the 
westward  at  present  ?"  However,  further  conversation 
was  interrupted  in  a  very  pleasant  manner  to  me,  by  the 
entrance  of  the  daughter  of  the  house,  with  the  promised 
provender,  which  had  taken  as  long  to  cook  as  an  elabo- 
rate dinner  ought  to  have  done. 

"  Hunger  needs  no  sauce,"  says  the  old  proverb,  and 
rude  as  was  the  food  set  before  me,  I  did  it  ample  justice, 
and  having  dispatched  my  meal,  I  asked  to  be  shown  to 
my  sleeping  apartment.  It  was  a  rude  chamber,  which 
had  to  be  reached  by  a  ladder,  and  the  furniture  of 
which  consisted  only  of  a  bedstead  made  of  roughly 
hewn  logs  and  a  couple  of  chairs  and  a  table  of  the  same 
materials.  There  was  but  one  narrow  window  to  the 
apartment,  but  the  light  and  air  came  in  freely — rather 
too  freely  for  the  comfort  or  convenience  of  its  occupants, 
I  thought,  through  the  many  crevices  and  chinks  that 
were  open  to  the  winds  and  rain.  However,  I  was  weary 
enough,  and  therefore  speedily  divesting  myself  of  my 
clothing,  I  threw  myself  on  the  rude  bed  and  in  a  few 
minutes  sunk  into  a  profound  slumber,  from  which  I  was 
awakened  towards  daylight  by  voices  in  the  adjoining 
apartment  which  I  had  been  informed  was  occupied  by 
the  travellers. 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  248 

The  first  sound  that  reached  me  was  like  the  wail  of  a 
woman — low  and  shrill,  as  though  the  expression  of 
grief  were  bursting  from  a  heart  overflowing  with  mental 
agony.  The  sound  was  singularly  at  variance  with  the 
soft  patter  of  the  rain  which  still  fell  heavily,  and  the 
dreary  sough  of  the  wind  which  had  risen  during  the 
night  and  now  moaned  without  and  whistled  and  shriek- 
ed through  every  cranny  of  the  rude,  ill-constructed 
dwelling. 

For  some  time  I  lay  half  unconscious  whether  the 
sounds  I  had  heard  had  not  been  suggested  to  my  dream- 
ing fancy  by  the  combined  noises  of  the  storm ;  but 
while  I  was  turning  myself  over  to  finish  my  yet  unsatis- 
fied slumber,  I  heard  distinctly  the  words,  in  tones  of 
such  acute  anguish  that  I  shall  never  forget  them ! 

"  Oh,  Edward,  is  this  not  dreadful !  I  cannot  endure 
the  light ;  my  poor  dear,  suffering  boy.  Why  did  we 
come  hither — no  help  at  hand — no  doctor  near — my  dar- 
ling child  must  die,  and  I  shall  feel  as  though  I  had  a 
hand  in  his  death.  Edward,  we  should  not  have  come 
here." 

"  Hush,  dear  Mary,  hush !"  said  another  voice — the 
husky  voice  of  a  man  who  was  endeavoring  to  suppress 
emotions  which  almost  choked  his  utterance ;  the  child 
has  been  dying — gradually  and  slowly,  but  none  the  less 
surely  dying — for  many  days  past ;  ever  since  he  had 
the  fever  at  Cincinnati.  The  doctor  cured  the  fever  then, 
but  he  could  not  restore  the  constitution  of  the  child. 
I  doubt  if  aught  of  human  skill  would  avail  him,  Mary ! 
He  has  been  a  feeble  infant  from  his  birth,  and  consump- 
tion would,  at  all  events,  before  many  years,  have  taken 
him  from  us,  even  had  we  remained  at  home." 

"Feeble  indeed,  poor  boy!"  replied  the  female,  "but 
only  so  much  the  dearer  to  the  heart  of  his  mother.  Oh, 
Edward !  if  a  doctor  could  only  see  him  even  now,  though 
he  died,  I  should  feel  better  satisfied — I  should  have  a 
load  of  grief  taken  off  my  mind." 

"  If  it  were  possible,  dear,  I  too  should  wish  that ;  but, 
poor  little  Charley  1  Perhaps,  love,  it  were  better  that 


244  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

he  be  thus  early  removed  from  the  trouble  of  this  world. 
It  is  but  six  short  years  since  we  were  wedded,  with 
every  promise  of  happiness  beaming  in  the  future,  yet 
what  but  wretchedness  has  since  awaited  us.  Poor 
Mary !  I  have  entailed  all  this  upon  you.  I  took  you 
from  your  happy  home — a  gay,  laughing  girl — to  share 
my  love — alas !  it  has  been  but  to  share  my  misery." 

"  Oh,  Edward,"  answered  the  female,  "  do  not  speak 
thus.  I  am  your  wife ;  and  love  and  duty  would  both 
bid  me,  had  I  again  to  choose,  to  share  your  fate  for 
weal  or  for  woe ;  but  your  well  meant  sophistry  can 
never  bring  comfort  to  the  heart  of  a  mother.  She  can 
never  be  led  to  believe  that  God  is  just  in  tearing  her 
first  born  from  her  arms." 

"  Silence,  Mary,"  said  the  man,  in  a  tone  of  mingled 
tenderness  and  severe  reproval — "  this  is  blasphemy. 
What  God  has  given  he  has  a  right  to  take  away." 

"  Why,  then,  did  he  give  ?  Oh,  this  is  dreadful — see 
those  convulsions — my  poor,  poor  darling!" 

I  had  heard  enough  to  warrant  my  intrusion,  and  I 
hastily  sprung  from  my  bed,  and  dressing  myself,  I 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  room  occupied  by  the  sorrow- 
ing parents  and,  as  I  suspected — the  dying  child. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  deep-toned  voice  of  the  man,  and 
I  entered. 

Upon  a  rude  couch  was  stretched  a  beautiful  boy  of 
perhaps  five  years  of  age,  but  his  handsome,  regular  fea- 
tures were  distorted  by  violent  convulsions,  and  his  fra- 
gile form  was  attenuated  to  a  frightful  degree. 

"  I  am  a  fellow-lodger,"  I  said,  apologetically,  "  and  by 
chance,  I  have  heard — for  I  slept  in  an  adjoining  room 
— your  lamentations  over  your  child.  I  am  a  physician, 
and  what  aid  I  can  give  you  is  at  your  service.  I  trust 
that  this  explanation  will  excuse  my  intrusion." 

"Can  you  save  my  child? — my  little  Charley?  Oh, 
sir,  if  you  can  save  my  child,  a  mother's  blessing  will 
forever  attend  you,"  almost  shrieked  the  mother,  as  I 
gave  my  explanation. 

The  father,  too,  looked  at  me  appealingly,  but  shook 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  245 

his  head  mournfully  and  spoke  not.  He  wished,  but  did 
not  dare,  to  hope.  I  at  a  glance  saw  that  the  boy  was  in 
the  last  stage  of  consumption,  and  that  the  convulsions, 
under  which  he  was  suffering,  were  the  prelude  of  death. 

It  were  cruelty,  I  thought,  to  hold  out  hopes  which 
could  not  be  realized,  and  I  told  the  sorrowing  father 
and  mother  that  indeed  all  earthly  skill  were  vain; 
that  soon  the  object  of  their  fond  idolatry  would  be 
an  angel  in  heaven.  Even  as  I  spoke,  the  infant  was 
seized  with  stronger  convulsions,  and  with  one  powerful 
spasmodic  throb  which  thrilled  through  every  nerve,  he 
half  raised  his  feeble  frame  from  the  bed,  fell  back  with 
a  gurgling  sound  in  his  throat,  stretched  his  little  limbs 
to  their  full  length,  and  expired. 

The  screams  of  the  mother  were  dreadful  to  listen  to, 
as  she  pressed  the  now  inanimate  form  to  her  bosom,  as 
though  she  would  warm  it  with  fresh  life.  She  smother- 
ed the  pale  lips  and  brow  of  the  dead  infant  with  kisses, 
and  then  wept  tears  of  agony  upon  his  face. 

Scarcely  less  painful  to  witness  was  the  silent  grief  of 
the  father ;  but  he  roused  himself  from  the  stupor  into 
which  he  had  momentarily  been  thrown,  and  sought 
with  gentle  words  to  soothe  and  calm  his  wife,  and  par- 
tially succeeded.  He  then  approached  the  bed  where 
the  dead  body  of  the  child  lay,  and  stooping,  and  gently 
kissing  his  brow  and  lips,  he  laid  the  sheet  over  the  body 
and  exclaimed, 

"  Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done." 

For  my  part,  I  thought  I  was  in  a  manner  committing 
sacrilege  by  intruding  upon  such  grief,  and  I  left  the 
room. 

Towards  noon,  the  rain  clouds,  swept  away  by  the 
wind,  had  entirely  disappeared,  and  Nature  resumed  her 
Spring  loveliness  even  in  this  desolate  wilderness. 

There  was  nothing  to  invite  one  to  remain  in  the  hotel, 
and  I  and  the  other  guests  of  the  inhospitable  inn  left 
the  house.  The  grief  of  the  mother  was  now  subdued, 
and  as  they  were  going  my  way  we  left  the  place  toge- 
ther. The  horse  I  have  described  as  having  so  melan- 


THE  OLD   DOCTOR  ;    OR, 

choly  an  aspect  the  day  before,  belonged  to  them,  and 
they  had  a  small  wagon  in  which  they  travelled. 

They  had  come,  the  man  told  me,  from  the  State  of 
Maine,  where  they  had  formerly  been  in  business  ;  but  he 
had  failed,  and  misfortune  after  misfortune  had  heaped 
themselves,  as  they  sometimes  will,  upon  him.  At  length, 
wearied  with  his  vain  endeavors  to  overcome  the  obsta- 
cles that  fortune  seemed  to  throw  in  his  way,  he  had  per- 
suaded his  wife  to  accompany  him  to  a  farm  in  the  wes- 
tefn  part  of  Arkansas,  which  had  belonged  to  his  father ; 
but  which,  in  more  prosperous  days,  they  had  little 
heeded,  and  which,  indeed,  had  never  been  visited  by 
him,  and  still  remained  a  perfect  wilderness.  He  hoped 
that  here,  in  a  new  way  of  life,  better  times  might  dawn 
upon  him,  and  he  had  disposed  of  all  his  household  goods, 
and  purchased  such  necessaries  as  he  thought  would  be 
required,  and  ventured  forth  to  his  future  home  in  the 
western  wilds.  A  poor  prospect,  he  said,  awaited  him ;  but 
it  could  not  be  more  hopeless  than  that  he  had  left  be- 
hind. They  had  stopped  at  Cincinnati,  and  there  their 
only  child,  the  idol  of  his  mother's  heart  ?  gentle  and  in- 
telligent but  always  weakly,  had  fallen  sick  with  fever, 
from  the  effects  of  which  it  had  never  recovered,  and  the 
difficulties  and  privations  of  the  journey,  and  the  wretch- 
ed weather  they  had  encountered,  had  hastened  it  to  the 
grave,  which,  under  the  most  favorable  auspices,  would 
ere  long  have  opened  to  receive  it.  Both  the  man  and 
woman  bore  traces  of  having  occupied  a  respectable  po- 
sition in  society,  and  although  worn  by  mental  suffering, 
the  features  of  the  female  were  exceedingly  beautiful. 
Their  property  lay  a  few  miles  distant  from  that  I  went 
to  survey,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  day,  with  many 
kind  wishes  on  both  sides,  I  left  the  bereaved  parents  to 
pursue  their  way  into  the  wilderness,  bearing  with  them 
their  loved  yet  sorrowful  burthen ;  for  the  mother  had 
insisted  that  the  grave  of  the  boy  should  be  near  their 
future  dwelling-place. 

Four  or  five  years  afterwards  I  again  visited  Arkan- 
sas, for  the  purpose  of  putting  a  man  and  his  wife  on  my 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  247 

land,  in  order  to  bring  it  under  cultivation.  Having 
settled  my  own  business,  I  made  inquiries  after  my  for- 
mer interesting  fellow  voyagers,  and  I  found  their  place 
out  without  difficulty.  Fortune,  wearied  with  buffeting 
them  in  the  Eastern  States,  had  here  smiled  upon  them 
and  been  lavish  of  her  stores.  The  land  had  been  found 
to  be  the  best  in  the  State,  and  a  portion  had  been  sold 
to  great  advantage — already  a  sweet  little  farm  had  arisen 
in  the  wilderness,  and  a  pretty,  tasteful  cottage  had  been 
erected.  I  was  kindly  welcomed  by  my  former  tempo- 
rary friends,  and  I  found  the  bloom  restored  to  the  mo- 
ther's cheek,  and  the  bright  beams  of  hope  and  cheer- 
fulness, illumining  the  once  desponding  brow  of  the 
father. 

There  was  another  little  Charley,  too — a  bright-eyed 
little  fellow  of  three  years  old,  who  exhibited  none  of 
the  symptoms  of  feeble  health  which  had  always  been 
apparent  in  his  brother,  and  who  was  almost  equally 
idolized  by  his  mother;  although  she  said,  as  she  pointed 
to  a  neat  grove  which  was  profusely  decorated  with  shrubs 
and  flowers,  at  the  bottom  of  the  little  garden — that 
she  could  never  love  any  child  as  she  had  loved  her 
first  born.  As  she  said  this,  however,  I  noticed  that  she 
stooped  and  kissed  the  little  fellow  playing  beside  her 
and  hugged  him  to  her  heart,  while  the  father  looked  at 
me  with  a  quiet  smile,  as  much  as  to  say — "  I  think  that 
the  present  little  Charley  is  as  dear  to  his  mother  and  to 
me  as  the  first,  even  now.  You  see  his  mother's  actions 
belie  her  words."  Then,  however,  he  glanced  toward 
the  lowly  grave ;  and  a  gentle  sigh  lifted  his  broad  bo- 
som, which  told  that,  after  all.  no  matter  how  many 
olive  branches  bloomed  and  blossomed  around  the  table 
of  the  now  happy  pair — the  first-born  would  never  bo 
forgotten. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;     OB, 


CHAPTEE   XX. 

A   MYSTERIOUS    PATIENT. 

ONE  morning  in  the  fall  of  1849, 1  was  j  ust  putting  on  my 
overcoat,  and  was  about  to  start  on  my  morning  round 
among  such  patients  as  I  still  visited,  for  at  this  time  I 
had  considerably  curtailed  my  practice,  and  confined  my- 
self to  a  limited  number  of  patients,  with  a  view  of  giv- 
ing up  practice  altogether  in  another  year,  when  my  ser- 
vant entered  the  parlor,  and  told  me  a  man  was  waiting  to 
see  me,  down  stairs. 

"  What  does  he  want,  Eobert?"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  He  wouldn't  send  up  any  mes- 
sage; he  said  he  wanted  to  see  the  doctor,"  replied  the 
servant  man. 

"  I  can't  wait  to  see  any  one  now,"  said  I,  hastily, 
"  Tell  him  that  he  must  send  up  his  message,  or  call  an- 
other time.  I  can't  be  bothered  with  conversation  just 
now." 

Again  Robert  left  the  room,  and  I  walked  out,  and  was 
about  to  step  into  my  carriage,  seeing  that  he  did  not  re- 
turn with  an  answer,  when  a  rough,  ill-looking  man 
stepped  up  to  me,  and  placed  a  note  in  my  hand. 

"  From  whom  is  this  note  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  surly  reply.  "  Read  it,  and 
perhaps  you'll  find  out,"  and  the  man  turned  the  cornei 
of  the  street. 

The  note  was  written  in  a  lady-like  style,  and  in  neat 
handwriting.  It  simply  said : 

"Dr. will  confer  an  immense  favor  upon  a  lady 

whose  husband  is  in  California,  if  he  will  meet  her  ser- 
vant at  the  corner  of  Bleecker-street,  at  8  o'clock  this 
evening,  and  follow  her  to  the  lady's  dwelling. 


STKAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  249 

"  This  is  no  light  matter ;  so  pray  do  not  treat  it  as  a 
silly  joke.  Life  and  death  are  involved  in  your  compliance. 
I  have  sent  this  note  by  a  messenger  whom  I  have  de- 
sired to  give  it  unto  your  hands,  himself,  otherwise  to 
return  with  it  to  me.  I  do  not  know  the  messenger,  nor 
does  he  know  me.  Do  not  fail  /" 

My  first  impulse,  on  reading  this  letter,  was  to  throw 
it  on  one  side  as  a  silly  attempt  at  a  hoax ;  but  the  style 
of  the  handwriting  and  the  evident  tremor  in  which  the 
underlined  portions  of  it  had  been  written,  induced  me 
to  believe  that  it  really  was  seriously  meant.  After  all 
I  was  only  asked  to  meet  a  female  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
evening,  in  a  public  and  fashionable  thoroughfare.  I  was 
married,  and  too  old  to  cause  any  evil  reports  to  arise 
from  the  meeting,  even  were  it  to  become  known,  which 
was  not  likely  to  be  the  case  ;  so  I  determined  to  see  the 
adventure  out. 

I  returned  at  my  usual  hour  in  the  afternoon  to  take 
dinner,  and  then  informed  my  wife  that  I  should  be 
obliged  to  go  out  again  to  visit  a  patient,  and  according- 
ly about  half-past  seven  o'clock,  I  left  my  residence  in 
Irving  Place  and  proceeded  leisurely  to  the  place  of  ap- 
pointment. 

The  clock  just  struck  eight,  as  I  turned  the  corner  of 
Bleecker-street,  and  sure  enough  there,  under  the  first 
lamp-post,  apparently  awaiting  some  person's  coming, 
stood  a  female  wearing  a  straw  bonnet  with  a  red  lining. 
I  passed  close  by  her,  and  looked  at  her  earnestly.  How- 
ever, my  gaze  was  useless,  for  the  servant,  or  whoever 
she  was,  immediately  dropped  her  veil. 

"  You,  I  presume,  are  the — lady — indicated  in  the  note 
I  received  this  morning  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  Yes,"  was  simply  the  response  to  my  question,  and 
another  silence  ensued.  At  length  the  female  said  im- 
patiently : 

"  It  is  not  seemly  for  us  to  be  awaiting  here  at  this  hour 
of  the  night ;  art  thee  ready  to  follow  me  according  to 
the  request  of  the  writer  of  the  letter  ?" 

11* 


250  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

I  was  fairly  struck  dumb  with  amazement. 

"  A  Quakeress  !"  I  muttered  to  myself.  ''  Well,  there 
are  strange  adventures  to  be  met  with  at  times." 

"  I  cannot  hear  what  thee  ?ayest,"  continued  my  mys- 
terious companion  ;  "  tell  me  honestly  if  thee  will  accom- 
pany me  or  not." 

''  Ah — yes — certainly — I  will,"  I  replied,  and  I  thought 
I  heard  first  the  faintest  laugh  in  the  world  issue  from 
beneath  the  tiresome  veil  which  hid  the  face  of  the  female. 
However,  she  walked  on  with  a  quick  step  and  I  followed 
her  until  she  reached  the  lower  end  of  the  street,  where 
a  private  carnage  was  in  waiting  for  my  companion.  The 
driver,  wlio  got  down  from  his  seat,  was  evidently  a  pri- 
vate servant,  for  although  he  wore  a  rough  overcoat,  I 
could  see  the  buttons  of  his  livery  as  the  wind  blew  aside 
the  cape,  and  his  appearance  denoted  the  well-drilled  do- 
mestic. He  handed  the  female  into  the  carriage  in  a  re- 
spectful manner,  and  I  now  was  satisfied  that  she  was  no 
servant.  Still,  she  might  be  merely  a  companion  to  the 
writer  of  the  note,  "  and  perhaps,"  thought  I,  "  she  is  her- 
self the  writer." 

"Please  to  step  in,  sir,"  said  she,  when  she  had  taken 
her  own  seat,  and  I  accepted  the  invitation.  The  coach- 
man came  to  the  door,  and  she  whispered  something  in 
his  ear,  and  then  turning  to  me  as  the  man  mounted  into 
his  seat,  she  added : 

"  I  am  about  to  draw  up  the  blinds  and  place  the  inte- 
rior of  the  coach  in  utter  darkness.  Thee  must  be  aware 
that  for  some  cause  which  thee  will  know  by  and  by, 
secrecy  is  necessary  in  this  business,  and  therefore  I  do 
not  wish  thee  to  see  whither  we  are  driving." 

I  made  no  objection ;  for  after  all,  little  harm  could 
come  to  me,  and  it  did  not  seem  likely  that  any  was  in- 
tended. My  companion  was  a  young,  and  as  I  believed, 
in  spite  of  the  envious  veil,  a  pretty  woman,  and  our 
guide  a  young,  smart  servant  lad. 

"  There  can  be  no  great  harm  come  of  the  adventure," 
said  I,  half  aloud ;  for  my  companion  heard  me,  and  re- 
plied : 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  251 

"  Harm !  Nay,  rather,  much  good  may  arise  from  it. 
Thou  art  not  fearful  of  me — a  poor,  fragile  female  ?"  and 
again  I  thought  I  detected  the  smothered  laugh  which 
could  scarcely  be  restrained. 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "I  am  not  frightened,  nevertheless  it 
is  always  pleasant  to  know  where  one  is  going" — for  by 
this  time  we  were  driving  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  every  mo- 
ment I  expected  to  hear  by  the  sound  of  the  wheels  that 
we  had  quitted  the  paved  streets  of  the  city  and  were 
orogressing  along  a  country  road  ;  but  no,  we  still  rattled 
on,  although  a  full  half  hour,  as  I  calculated  in  the  midst 
of  the  darkness,  must  have  elapsed  since  my  fair  com- 
panion had  given  her  orders  to  the  coachman,  and  pulled 
up  the  blinds  of  the  coach.  At  length  the  soft  easy  mo- 
tion warned  us  that  we  had  reached  beyond  the  confines 
of  the  city ;  and  just  as  I  was  getting  into  a  bit  of  a  flurry 
on  account  of  the  distance  I  was  from  home,  as  I  imag- 
ined, and  the  alarm  that  my  wife  would  feel  on  account 
of  my  absence,  the  coach  suddenly  drew  up,  and  the 
coachman  alighted,  and  opening  the  door,  handed  first  my 
female  companion  and  then  myself  from  the  carriage. 

I  looked  about  me  with  a  pardonable  curiosity,  in  or- 
der to  form  some  idea  of  where  I  was,  if  possible ;  but 
for  aught  I  knew  of  the  place,  I  might  have  stood  in  the 
midst  of  an  African  forest.  On  both  sides  of  the  wide 
gravelled  path  on  which  I  stood,  the  shrubs  were  so  thick 
and  so  closely  arched  overhead,  as  to  hide  altogether  from 
my  view  the  rays  of  the  moon,  which  was  just  rising,  as 
I  saw  by  one  brief  glimpse  afforded  me  by  a  partial  break 
in  the  hedge  or  plantation,  or  whatever  it  might  be,  as  I 
alighted  from  the  carriage.  My  conductress  took  me  by 
the  arm  and  led  me  about  a  hundred  yards,  until  we 
reached  what  appeared  to  me,  in  the  imperfect  light,  the 
back  premises  of  a  large  dwelling-house,  and  after  ascend 
ing  a  short  flight  of  stone  steps,  we  entered  a  narrow  pas- 
sage, where  the  female  said : 

"  Promise  that  thee  will  never  speak  of  what  thee  may 
see  here  to-night,  for  six  months,  and  I  will  take  thee  to 
the  lady  who  needs  thy  services." 


252  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

"  I  can  make  no  such  rash  promise,"  replied  I.  "  The 
nature  of  my  profession,  leading  me  as  it  does,  into  the 
knowledge  of  many  secrets  and  many  family  histories, 
forbids  me  from  speaking  of  what  I  see  unless  I  should 
unsuspectingly  be  led  into  a  knowledge  of  something 
wrong.  You  may  depend  upon  my  secrecy  so  far  as  the 
honor  or  happiness  of  the  family  is  concerned,  but  I  shall 
make  no  rash  vow." 

"  It  is  well,"  she  said,  as,  after  leading  me  through  sev- 
eral dark,  tortuous  passages,  and  ascending  two  or  three 
flights  of  stairs,  she  led  me  at  length  into  a  handsomely- 
lighted  parlor,  the  furniture  of  which,  however,  was  cov- 
ered with  linen,  apparently  for  the  purpose  of  protecting 
it  from  dust. 

Here  she  begged  me  to  sit  down  while  she  went  to 
inform  her  mistress  of  my  presence.  If  I  had  been 
before  astonished  at  the  sweetness  of  her  voice,  I  was 
now  still  more  struck  with  the  neatness  of  her  attire,  and 
the  fawn-like  elegance  of  her  figure,  as  she  bounded 
with  infantile  grace  from  the  apartment ;  but  she  had,  as 
I  thought,  rather  coquettishly,  not  yet  ventured  to  re- 
move the  veil  from  her  face. 

"  She  is  no  servant,"  murmured  I ;  "  and  I  am  half  in- 
clined to  think  that  Quaker  style  of  speaking  a  mere 
ruse.  However,  a  few  moments  wiW,  I  presume,  lead  me 
into  the  secret  of  this  mysterious  visit.  A  pretty  sort 
of  an  adventure  for  an  old  man  like  me,  truly  !  but  here 
comes  my  travelling  companion." 

It  was  not  she,  however,  but  a  servant  of  the  house- 
hold this  time,  and  no  mistake,  who  requested,  in  a  tol- 
erably broad  Limerick  accent,  that  I  would  follow  her 
into  her  mistress's  room. 

I  did  so,  and  was  received  at  the  door  by  the  fair  in- 
cognita, who  pointed  towards  a  couch,  where,  wrapped 
in  a  loose  dress,  lay  a  very  handsome  and  youthful  fe- 
male. 

"  Is  that  Dr. ?"  she  asked,  in  a  feeble  voice,  as  I 

approached  the  couch. 

"  It  is,  madam,"  I  replied.     "  My  visit,  in  reply  to 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  253 

your  note  of  this  morning,  has  been  made  under  strange 
circumstances  ;  and  I  shall  be  happy  now  to  learn  the 
nature  of  the  business  upon  which  I  have  been  sum- 
moned." ^ 

"You  shall  know,  doctor,"  replied  the  lady.  "Adele," 
speaking  to  the  incognita,  "  you  will  not  need  to  go  out 
again ;  take  off  your  bonnet  and  leave  the  room.  I  must 
first  see  Doctor alone." 

I  turned  round  as  I  heard  this  request  on  the  part  of 
the  lady,  for  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  features  of  the 
young  lady  whose  name  I  had  found  was  Adele,  as  a 
young  man  of  twenty-five  would  have  been  under  simi- 
lar circumstances.  Adele  had  her  bonnet  off,  and  with 
it,  of  course,  the  veil  was  removed.  She  was  looking 
me  steadily  in  the  face  as  I  turned,  and  I  was  thunder- 
stricken — I  had  almost  written  horror-stricken — at  what 
I  saw.  The  gentle-toned,  soft-spoken  Adele,  whose 
Quaker  accent  and  elegant  fawn-like  figure  had  all  con- 
spired to  make  me  expect  something  very  beautiful  in 
her  features,  was  a  negress  !  and  not  only  that,  but  one 
of  the  ugliest  specimens  that  ever  was  landed  from  an 
African  slaver.  Adele  evidently  noticed  my  surprise, 
but  her  countenance  expressed  no  emotion  whatever. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  vacant  and  idiotic  I  had  ever 
gazed  upon.  She  turned  and  left  the  room,  and  as  the 
door  closed  I  again  heard,  or  fancied  I  did,  the  low,  sup- 
pressed musical  laugh. 

"Dr. ,"  commenced  the  lady,  in  a  feeble  voice, 

often  interrupted  by  a  distressing  cough.     "Dr. ,  I 

need  not  tell  you  that  I  am  very  ill,  and  even  more 
racked  in  mind  than  in  body.  You  will  doubtless  think 
my  conduct  strange  in  having  sent  for  you  in  the  singu- 
lar manner  I  did;  but  I  had  my  reasons  for  so  doing, 
and  when  I  have  explained  them  I  trust  you  will  forgive 
me  any  annoyance  I  have  been  the  occasion  of." 

She  ceased  speaking  in  consequence  of  being  inter- 
rupted by  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  which  left  her  ut- 
terly exhausted,  and  for  some  minutes  she  lay  back  on 
the  pillow  of  the  couch  motionless,  and  her  breathing  was 


254  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

scarcely  perceptible.  At  length  she  recovered  herself, 
and  proceeded  with  her  story,  which.  I  shall  relate  in  her 
own  words: — 

"I  have  not  always  been  the  tenant  of  an  abode  of 
luxury  such  as  I  now  reside  in,"  continued  she,  glancing 
around  at  the  handsome  furniture  of  the  apartment, 
"and  would  to  God  I  had  never  known  such  luxury.  1 
was  happy  when  I  was  poor — and  now  happiness  and  I 
have  parted  company  for  ever.  You  may  think  it 
strange,  doctor,  that  I  should  have  singled  you  out — as 
you  surmise,  doubtless,  a  perfect  stranger  to  me — to  be 
the  confidant  of  my  troubles.  But  do  you  recollect 
about  five  years  ago  attending  in  your  professional 

capacity,  Mrs. ?"  (mentioning  the  name  of  the  wife 

of  a  confectioner  of  considerable  fame  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  city.) 

"  I  do,  I  replied,  and  then  an  idea  seemed  to  float 
through  my  mind  that  I  had  somewhere  seen  the  girl's 
features  before. 

"Do  you  recollect,"  she  continued,  "once  bringing 
your  wife  to  the  saloon  and  leaving  her  at  one  of  the 
tables,  while  you  went  up  stairs  to  see  Mrs. ?" 

" I  cannot  say  that  I  do,"  I  replied,  ''yet  it  is  very 
possible  I  may  have  done  so." 

"  I  think  I  can  recall  your  recollection  of  that  evening, 
then,  by  mentioning  another  circumstance.  When  you 
were  about  leaving  the  saloon,  a  fracas  occurred  with 
some  young  men  who  were  slightly  intoxicated  and  had 
become  quarrelsome.  One  of  them  used  some  rude 
language  to  me,  which  another  one  resented,  and  the 
first-mentioned  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  aim  a.  blow  at 
me  with  his  cane,  which  you  arrested,  and  bade  me  keep 
close  to  you  until  the  young  men  had  been  removed  from 
the  saloon.  Do  not  think  me  vain,  doctor — I  am  not 
vain  now,"  she  added,  with  a  mournful  smile,  "  but  per- 
haps it  may  assist  your  memory  if  I  state  that  your  good 
wife  passed  some  very  complimentary  remarks  upon  my 
personal  appearance,  and  that  you,  who  had  witnessed 
the  whole  of  the  riotous  proceedings,  satisfied  the  pro- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  255 

prietor  that  I  was  not  to  blame,  lie  having  some  sus- 
picion that  perhaps  some  forward  behavior  of  mine  had 
caused  the  young  men  to  behave  as  they  did.  Do  you 
recollect  now,  doctor?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  I.  "  I  recollect  perfectly  well  the  cir 
cumstance  now  you  speak  of,  and  I  have  some  faint 
recollection  of  your  features  likewise,  but  you  are  sadly 
changed  since  then  or  else  my  old  eyes  deceive  me." 
"  Changed  !"  said  the  lady  in  a  voice  so  mournful,  so 
touching,  so  full  of  heart-felt  grief,  that  I  felt  sorry  I  had 
used  the  expression,  "  indeed  I  am  changed.  Changed  in 
mind  and  in  body — my  youth  and  beauty  fled — and  my 
purity  of  mind,  alas  !  I  fear  fled  also.  But  let  me  pro- 
ceed with  my  story. 

"  It  was  the  recollection  of  your  kindness  to  me  on 
that  evening  which  led  me  to  seek  you  out  in  the  singu- 
lar manner  I  have  done,  and  let  me  thank  you  now, 
doctor,  for  the  promptness  with  which  you  replied  to  my 
vague  and  somewhat  suspicious  note.  Most  persons 
would  have  thrown  it  aside,  considering  it  to,  be  merely 
a  wretched  and  idle  hoax,  and  I  knew  not  whom  else  to 
seek  if  you  disregarded  my  application.  A  few  evenings 
after  the  circumstances  I  have  alluded  to  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  interposed  between  me  and  his 
tipsy  companion,  called  in  at  the  saloon  again  and  in- 
troducing himself  to  me,  begged  my  pardon  for  his  share 
in  the  disgraceful  outrage  to  which  I  had  been  submitted. 
He  was  so  respectful  and  appeared  so  truly  indignant  at 
the  conduct  of  his  companions,  that  I  really  felt  more 
hurt  than  he,  and  I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  consider 
him  to  blame,  for  he  had  been  prompt  to  render  me  such 
service  as  he  was  able  to  do. 

"  After  this  he  was  a  constant  visitor  at  the  saloon, 
and  he  always  managed  to  address  a  few  words  of  polite- 
ness to  me,  without  being  in  the  slightest  degree  intru- 
sive, and  sometimes  in  passing  he  would  hand  me  a 
bouquet  of  flowers  which  I  at  first  took,  merely  because 
he  offered  it,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  pain  him  by  a  re- 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

fusal ;  and  by  and  bye  I  began  to  prize  the  flowers  for 
the  sake  of  the  donor. 

"  So  passed  away  three  or  four  mouths  during  which 
period  we  had  become  intimate,  so  far  as  intimacy  could 
exist  between  persons  in  our  relative  conditions,  for  he 
was  a  young  man  of  wealth  and  high  expectations,  and 
I  was  a  simple  shop  girl. 

"  Sometimes  romantic  ideas  of  love  would  spring  up 
in  my  bosom,  for  he  was  a  handsome  young  man,  and  I 
already  felt  a  strong  partiality  for  him.  which,  if  it  was 
not  love,  at  least  was  near  akin  to  it.  At  first,  on  such 
occasions  I  banished  these  thoughts  from  my  mind  ; 
would  to  Heaven  I  had  always  done  so ;  how  much 
misery  would  have  been  spared  me !  But  I  could  not 
do  itj  and  when  he  entered  the  saloon  in  the  company 
of  ladies — his  equals  in  social  rank,  I  soon  began  to  feel 
a  pang  of  jealousy,  which  should  have  forewarned  me  to 
put  myself  beyond  the  reach  of  temptation,  for  it  showed 
that  the  barbed  arrows  of  Cupid  had  already  transfixed 
in  my  heart. 

"  I  will  not  weary  you  with  long  uninteresting  details, 
but  will  at  once  proceed  to  the  turning  pivots  of  my 
brief  life.  I  have  a  mother  residing  on  Long  Island, 
and  on  Sundays  I  used,  if  the  weather  was  fair,  to  be 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  and  spending  the  day  with  her. 
One  Sunday  evening,  about  six  months  after  my  ac- 
quaintance with  Edward  had  commenced,  I  was  return- 
ing from  my  accustomed  visit  to  my  mother.  The  day 
had  been  sultry,  and  I  had  not  left  my  mother's  house 
more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  atmosphere 

fave  every  indication  of  an  approaching  thunder-storm, 
was  still  a  considerable  distance  from  the  ferry  boat  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  air  began  to  darken  and  the  rain  to 
fall.  I  was  hastening  on  when  a  carriage  containing 
three  young  men  hurried  by  me,  they  seeming  as  anxious 
as  myself  to  gain  the  shelter  of  the  boat  before  the  storm 
burst  in  its. fury.  The  carriage  was,  however,  suddenly 
checked  a  few  yards  in  advance  of  me,  and  one  of  the 
young  men,  after  giving  some  directions  to  his  compa- 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL. 

• 

nions,  sprang  out  and  came  towards  me  with  an  umbrella, 
the  carriage  again  driving  on.  I  soon  recognized  him  as 
Edward.  I  was  sorry  that  I  had  thus  met  him,  and  yet 
I  was  glad  too.  I  felt  a  strange  indescribable  sensation 
of  delight  as  he  spread  open  his  umbrella  and  offered  me 
his  arm ;  at  the  same  time  something  warned  me,  I  knew 
not  how  or  why,  that  I  was  doing  wrong — a  mysterious 
voice  seemed  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  '  Be  on  your  guard 
or  you  will  bitterly  regret  this  meeting.'  However,  I 
heeded  not  the  warning  voice— Edward's  conduct  was 
kind  and  gentlemanly,  and  we  sat  in  the  cabin  of  the 
boat  while  it  made  two  or  three  trips  to  and  fro,  until  the 
violence  of  the  storm  had  abated,  when  he  insisted  upon 
escorting  me  to  my  destination,  and  before  he  left  me  he 
had  extorted  a  not  unwilling  promise  on  my  part  that  I 
should  meet  him  at  Union  Square  on  the  following  Sun- 
day at  a  stated  hour,  and  that  I  would  ride  out  into  the 
country  with  him. — From  that  date  my  visits  to  my 
poor  mother  were  few  and  far  between,  for  that  delight- 
ful Sunday's  ride  led  to  many  others,  and  by-and-bye 
Edward  began  to  talk  of  love.  How  my  heart  throbbed 
as  I  listened  to  his  honied  words,  and  felt  his  soft,  low, 
musical  voice  thrill  to  my  heart.  By-and-bye  he  grew 
bolder,  and  by  degrees,  from  disparaging  the  vows  of 
love  made  at  the  altar,  he  began  to  ridicule  what  he 
termed  the  absurd  notion  that  a  few  mystic  words  spoken 
by  a  priest  should  be  more  binding  than  the  untrammel- 
led ties  cemented  by  pure  affection.  Oh  1  why  did  I  not 
then  recollect  the  warning  voice  ?  Why  did  I  not  con- 
fide my  feelings  to  my  mother?  Her  counsel  would  have 
saved  me.  But,  no !  it  was  not  to  be.  I  listened  at  first 
with  alarm,  then  with  sorrow ;  but  still  I  continued  to 
listen  to  the  voice  of  the  tempter,  when  I  should  have 
spurned  him  from  me.  However,  I  always  insisted  that 
I  would  submit  to  no  Socialist  doctrines,  but  that  the 
man  who  wished  me  to  become  his  wife  must  sanctify 
his  vows  of  love  at  the  altar  of  the  church ;  and  Edward 
yielded  to  what  he  styled  my  silly  squeamishness,  and 
offered  me  marriage.  He,  the  wealthy  and  highly  edu- 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

• 

cated  gentleman,  offered  to  marry  the  poor,  humble  stop- 
yirl.  When  I  heard  him  say  this,  I  forgot  all  my  feara 
in  the  delirium  of  delight  that  rushed  through  my  veins, 
and  I  solemnly  promised  to  be  his — his  alone.  I  said, 
and  I  spake  the  truth,  that  I  loved  him  dearer  than  my 
own  life." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  poor  lady  reclined  back  on  her 
pillow,  unable  to  restrain  her  emotions.  1  had  become 
interested  in  her  story  and  as  I  knew  that  when  her 
mind  was  relieved  of  its  burthen  she  would  be  much 
easier,  I  encouraged  her  to  proceed : 

"  Then  you  were  married,"  said  I,  to  Edward ,  to 

this  gentleman  of  whom  you  speak?"  for  she  had  not 
mentioned  his  sirname. 

"  Doctor ,"  she  replied,  making  a  great  effort  to 

speak,  as  was  evident  from  the  forced,  unnatural  firm- 
ness of  her  voice,  "  we  were  married  as  I  thought  then, 
but  I  soon  had  reason  to  believe  that  the  marriage  was 
false — that  the  priest  who  married  us  in  the  home  Ed- 
ward had  procured  for  me,  in  order,  as  he  said,  that  for 
the  present,  his  wealthy  friends  who  would  be  opposed 
to  his  marriage  with  me,  having  other  views  regarding 
him,  might  not  be  aware  that  the  ceremony  had  taken 
place,  was  a  companion  of  Edward's,  who  had  disguised 
himself  to  represent  a  minister  of  the  church." 

Again  she  ceased  speaking  and  after  waiting  a  few  mo 
ments  for  her  to  resume  the  thread  of  her  story,  I  said — 
"  May  I  ask  how  long  ago  it  is  since  the  ceremony, 
whether  it  was  true  or  false,  took  place  ?'' 
.  "  More  than  three  years,"  she  replied.  "  At  first  I  was 
happy,  oh,  how  happy!  and  then  came  the  first  feeling 
of  remorse.  I  could  not  feel  truly  happy  alter  the  first 
flush  of  delight  was  over,  until  I  had  at  least  the  satis- 
faction of  telling  my  mother  that  I  was  a  wife,  and  just 
before  our  first  child  was  born  (poor  thing,  happily  for 
itself  it  was  still-born)  1  besought  Edward  to  allow  me 
to  tell  my  mother  and  promised  inviolable  secrecy  as 
regarded  every  one  else.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  1  saw 
Edward  angry.  I  never  shall  forget  the  fearful  scowl 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  259 

that  came  over  his  features  as  he  bid  me  never  to  speak 
to  him  in  that  manner  again.  I  fear  that  the  terrors  of 
that  moment  so  affected  my  health  that  it  was  the  cause 
of  my  babe  being  still-born.  Yet  I  was  not  to  be  daunt- 
ed, and  a  few  days  afterwards  I  again  made  a  similar 
request  and  this  time  his  passion  knew  no  bounds.  He 
taunted  me  with  my  former  poverty,  asked  if  he  had  not 
raised  me  to  a  position  of  wealth  and  splendor,  and  con- 
cluded his  vituperations  by  telling  me  in  bitter  tones  that 
we  were  not  married — that  the  ceremony  was  a  mere  pretence 
from  beginning  to  end!  I  believe  I  swooned  away  when 
I  heard  those  cruel  words,  for  the  first  thing  I  recollect 
after  this,  is  that  I  was  reclining  upon  the  sofa,  supported 
by  Edward's  arm,  and  he  was  applying  restorative  es- 
sences to  my  nostrils  and  lips,  and  softly  bathing  my 
brow. 

"  '  Thank  God,  my  darling,  that  you  have  recovered 
at  last,'  said  he,  as  he  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  my  cheek. 
'  Why,  what  a  foolish,  sensitive  little  thing  you  are ! — 
Come,  now,  let  us  make  a  compact  together.  You  shall 
promise  me  that  you  shall  never  speak  to  me  on  this 
disagreeable  subject  again,  and  I  will  promise  that  my 
dear  little  wife — my  wife  according  to  my  ideas,  although 
our  marriage  is  not  sanctioned  by  a  pack  of  silly  vows — 
shall  have  every  wish  gratified,  before  she  utters  it,  if 
possible,  by  one  who  loves  her  with  the  most  ardent 
affection.  Is  it  a  bargain?' 

"  I  was  overcome  by  his  affectionate  caresses,  so  glad 
to  find  him  like  himself  again,  that  I  made  the  promise, 
and  since  that  time  the  subject  has  never  been  broached 
between  us." 

"  You  have  had  but  one  child,  then  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  I  have  had  two,  doctor  ;  the  first,  as  I  have  said,  was 
still-born,  the  second  died  when  a  few  weeks  old,"  she 
paused  a  few  minutes,  and  then  added,  "  and  I  am  again 
about  to  become  a  mother." 

"Is  your  husband  here  ?"  I  at  length  ventured  to  ask. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "  Edward  is  in  California,  and  per- 
haps may  not  return  for  twelve  months.  I  do  not  know 


260  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

who  the  medical  gentleman  is  who  has  previously  attended 
me  in  my  confinements,  and  dreading  Edward's  anger  if 
I  sent  for  a  stranger  in  an  open  manner,  I  ventured  tc 
send  for  you  in  this  mysterious  way.  You  will  not  be- 
tray my  secret,  doctor  ?" 

"  You  may  place  every  confidence  in  me,"  I  replied. 
4'I  should  be  base  indeed  to  betray  such  a  trust;  but  did 
not  your husband make  any  arrangements  in  an- 
ticipation of  this  event  before  his  departure  on  so  long  a 
journey  ?" 

A  shade  of  uneasiness  and  alarm  passed  over  her  coun- 
tenance as  she  replied : 

"  No,  he  did  not — that  is  to  say,  he  left  in  such  a  hurry 
that  he  could  not." 

It  struck  me  that  something  was  wrong  from  the  hesi- 
tating way  in  which  she  uttered  these  words. 

After  a  short  time  she  added,  "  Now  that  I  have  sent 
for  you,  doctor,  and  have  got  your  promise,  which  I  shall 
esteem  sacred,  I  cannot  expect  that  you  will  visit  me  again 
in  this  manner.  I  will  give  you  my  address,  but  not  my 
husband's — not  Edward's  name,  and  I  beg  that  on  your 
honor  you  will  promise  that  you  will  take  no  measures 
to  discover  it — perhaps  some  day  there  may  be  no  fear — 
that  is  to  say,  no  need  of  this  secrecy.  I  feel  weak — I 
have  not  spoken  so  long  together  for  months,  not  since 
Edward's  departure.  Here  is  my  address,"  she  added, 
writing  it  on  a  card  in  pencil ;  "  and  now,  doctor,  I  con- 
jure you  by  all  you  hold  sacred,  that  at  least  for  six 
months,  you  will  preserve  a  profound  secrecy  as  regards 
all  I  have  told  you — even  from  your  wife." 

Her  voice  trembled  as  she  spoke,  and  though  I  felt 
there  was  some  strange  mystery  enveloping  the  whole 
affair,  I  could  not  forbear  giving  her  a  pledge  of  inviola- 
ble secrecy. 

"  Do  not  look  at  the  card  until  you  reach  home,"  she 
continued,  "  and  ask  no  questions  of  the  servant.  He 
will  drive  you  to  your  residence,  for  I  have  detained  you 
very  late.  The  direction  will  enable  you  to  find  your 
way  here  again.  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  doctor  ?" 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  261 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow,"  I  replied.  "  I  don't  think 
there  will  be  any  need  of  my  calling  before  that,"  and  so 
saying,  I  bid  my  interesting  but  mysterious  patient  "  good 
night/' 

As  I  passed  down  stairs,  the  female  attendant  met  me, 
and  requested  me  to  sit  down  for  a  few  minutes,  while 
she  gave  directions  for  the  carriage  to  be  got  in  readiness, 
and  she  left  the  room  for  that  purpose.  I  had  come  upon 
her  suddenly,  and  saw  that  she  was  reading,  tor  she  had 
hastily  thrust  two  books  under  the  pillow  of  the  sofa  up- 
on my  approach.  Curiosity  had  prompted  me  to  look 
at  them.  I  found  that  one  was  a  volume  of  French  po- 
ems by  Lamartine,  and  the  other  was  Moore's  "  Lallah 
Rookh."  I  was  so  astonished  that  it  was  as  much  as  I 
could  do  to  thrust  the  books  into  their  hiding-place,  when 
I  heard  her  steps  approaching,  and,  I  saw  that  she  imme- 
diately glanced  at  the  sofa  as  if  to  see  if  the  books  had 
been  disturbed.  I  wished  her  good  night,  and  walking 
to  the  door,  stepped  into  the  carriage,  which  immediately 
drove  oif  with  me  at  a  rapid  pace. 

*' Mystery  upon  mystery,"  thought  I;  "what  does  it 
all  mean.  There  is  something  wrong  somewhere  besides 
this  false  marriage  of  that  unhappy  girl ;  and  then,  here 
is  a  negro  Quakeress  reading  Lamartine's  poems  and 
Moore's  '  Lallah  Rookh !' " 


262  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

I 'HAVE  already  mentioned  that  my  interesting  and 
mysterious  patient  had  given  me  her  address,  written  with 
pencil  on  a  piece  of  card,  and  true  to  my  promise  I  visit- 
ed the  place  on  the  appointed  day.  Of  course  this  time 
I  found  it  out  easily  enough,  and  I  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised to  find  that  it  was,  comparatively  speaking,  but  a 
short  distance  from  my  own  residence.  It  had  appeared 
to  me  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit,  that  I  had  trav- 
elled over  a  far  greater  distance ;  perhaps  the  servant  had 
received  directions  not  to  take  a  straight  course,  and  per- 
haps my  curiosity  and  suspense,  and  partial  uneasiness, 
had  led  me  to  fancy  that  I  had  been  a  longer  time  on 
the  journey  than  it  really  had  occupied. 

I  shall  not  say  where  the  house  was  located  ;  but 
every  one  who  has  ridden  out  on  the  Bloomingdale  road, 
has  passed  it  on  their  way,  and  not  a  lew  must  have  re- 
marked its  snug  and  cosy  aspect.  It  was  not  a  large 
mansion,  nor  did  the  grounds,  or  the  decorations  within, 
give  it  any  extraordinary  pretensions  to  fashion  :  but  as 
far  as  comfort  was  concerned,  every  thing  was  as  perfect- 
ly arranged  as  it  well  could  be,  and  the  rooms  were  very 
handsomely  furnished,  although  several  of  them  appeared 
to  be  unoccupied.  In  fact  the  lady  I  was  called  to  visit, 
the  female,  whoever  she  was,  who  had  been  my  compan- 
ion in  the  carriage  on  the  occasion  of  the  previous  visit, 
and  one  servant  girl  besides  the  man  servant  before  men- 
tioned, appeared  to  be  the  sole  tenants  of  the  dwelling. 

I  was  ushered  up-stairs  to  her  mistress'  apartment,  by 
the  servant  girl,  and  as  I  approached  the  door,  1  heard  a 
melodious  female  voice  reading  aloud.  •  As  I  paused  af- 
ter having  knocked  at  the  door,  I  heard  a.  rustling  of 
garments  inside  and  a  slight  sound  as  though  some  one 
had  passed  from  the  room  by  an  inner  door,  and  then  a 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  263 

voice,  which  I  recognized  to  be  that  of  the  invalid,  bade 
me  enter. 

I  found  the  lady  alone  ;  but  a  chair  placed  beside  the 
couch  upon  which  she  had  been  reclining,  and  an  open 
book  laying  on  the  table,  told  me  that  I  had  not  been 
wrong  in  my  conjecture,  and  that  the  person  I  had  heard 
reading  to  the  sick  lady,  had  quitted  the  apartment  by  a 
door  which  I  fancied  opened  into  another  room. 

The  lady  looked  still  more  languid  than  she  had  ap- 
peared on  my  former  visit,  and  upon  my  asking  her 
how  she  was,  she  feebly  replied  that  she  feared  she  was 
very  ill. 

It  was  needless  for  me  to  press  her  as  regarded  the 
symptoms  of  her  disorder — for  I  knew  what  were  her 
physical  ailments,  as  the  reader  may  readily  surmise,  from 
what  had  passed  on  the  former  interview.  The  distress- 
ing cough  that  I  have  spoken  of,  was  occasioned  by  the 
general  derangement  of  the  bodily  functions  consequent 
upon  the  nature  of  her  illness,  and  did  not  arise  from  cold 
or  from  any  chronic  affection  of  the  throat  or  lungs.  All 
this,  therefore,  was  susceptible  of  improvement ;  but  in 
addition  to  this,  I  could  perceive  that  mental  affliction  of 
the  most  painful  character  was  wearing  away  her  life, 
and  until  this  was  relieved,  I  knew  that  all  hope  of  her 
restoration  to  health,  even  after  the  critical  moment  that 
made  her  the  third  time  a  mother,  had  passed  away, 
would  prove  futile. 

Naturally  anxious  as  I  was  to  become  acquainted  with 
all  the  facts  of  this  singular  case,  I  was  so  situated  that  I 
could  make  no  inquiries  that  would  have  furnished  any 
clue  to  the  yet  undeveloped  mysteries,  without  appearing 
intrusive,  and  perhaps  causing  pain ;  and  after  having 
sat  for  a  reasonable  time,  and  having  satisfied  myself  that 
the  crisis  was  not  likely  to  take  place  immediately,  I  was 
about  to  take  my  leave,  promising  in  a  short  time  to  call 
daily,  when  the  lady  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  feeling 
of  faintness,  and  at  her  request,  I  rang  the  bell  for  her  at- 
tendant. 

The  summons  was  answered  by  the  negress  whom  I 


264  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

had  seen  on  my  previous  visit,  who  must  have  been  close 
at  hand,  as  she  entered  by  the  doorconnecting  the  sitting 
room  with  the  bed-room,  as  I  perceived  by  a  glimpse  oi 
the  interior,  as  the  door  was  opened. 

She  approached  the  sufferer,  and  taking  a  bottle  from 
the  table,  bathed  her  brow  with  eau  de  cologne,  and  ap- 
plied smelling  salts  to  her  nostrils,  and  in  the  course  of 
a  few  minutes  she  revived. 

"  Thank  you,  Adele,"  said  she — "  I  feel  better  now," 
and  then  turning  towards  me,  she  added,  "I  am  so  weak, 
doctor,  that  I  often  have  these  slight  swoons ;  but  they 
are  no  way  alarming.  In  fact  I  attribute  them  entirely 
to  the  condition  of  my  health,  just  now*  I  suffered  from 
them  very  much  previous  to  the  birth  of  my  first  baby." 

This  was  said  interrogatively,  as  though  she  would 
have  asked  my  opinion,  and  I  replied: 

"  No,  madam,  they  are  not  dangerous ;  they  are  of  fre- 
quent occurrence  under  the  circumstances,  especially 
when  the  frame  has  been  enfeebled  by  prior  sickness,  or 
when  the  mind  is  uneasy  ;  but  you  should  always  have 
assistance  at  hand.  Indeed,  in  your  present  condition, 
some  attendant  should  always  remain  in  the  room  with 
you,  and  you  should  likewise  strive  to  be  as  cheerful  as 
possible,  and  either  enter  into  some  interesting  conversa- 
tion, or  let  some  one  read  to  you,  so  as  to  keep  your 
mind  occupied." 

"  Be  under,  no  alarm  for  me  in  that  respect,  doctor," 
she  replied ;  "  Adele  is  always  with  me  during  the  day- 
time, and  she  occupies  the  same  bed-room  at  night.  She 
was  reading  to  me  as  you  were  announced,  when  she  sud- 
denly left  the  room ;  but  she  has  since  remained  close  at 
hand,  as  you  may  have  perceived." 

While  the  lady  was  speaking,  I  had  taken  the  oppor- 
tunity to  more  closely  examine  the  features  of  her  com- 
panion by  the  day-light,  than  I  had  been  able  to  do  dur- 
ing the  mere  glimpse  I  had  of  her  face  on  the  previous 
visit,  and  I  now  felt  sure  that  she  wore  a  mask ;  that  the 
negro  features  were  false,  as  well  as  the  dark  material 
that  covered  her  hands  and  arms,  although  both  were  ad- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  265 

mirably  arranged,  and  would  have  deceived  any  one,  un- 
less upon  a  close  inspection.  The  lady  observed  me  look- 
ing rather  attentively,  and  immediately  sought  to  turn 
my  attention  away,  by  making  some  apparently  casual 
remark,  and  shortly  afterwards  I  bid  her  good  day,  and 
quitted  the  room. 

As  I  was  leaving,  the  younger  female  whispered  in 
the  ear  of  the  other,  and  then  apparently  having  obtained 
an  affirmative  reply  to  some  request,  she  followed  me  out 
and  accompanied  me  down  stairs,  and  into  the  little  par- 
lor where  I  had  seen  her  reading  on  my  former  visit. 

"I  fancy,  doctor,"  she  said,  "that  you  suspect  that  I 
have  assumed  a  disguise,  and  you  are  right.  I  wear  a 
mask  and  false  hair,  and  these  dark  gloves  (holding  out 
a  pretty  shaped  arm  and  hand,  covered  with  dark  close- 
fitting  silk  mittens)  are  only  drawn  on  to  make  my  dis- 
guise perfect.  The  Quaker  style  in  which  I  previously 
addressed  you,  was  also  assumed,  partly  because  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  known,  and  partly  to  gratify  a  whim  of  my 
own.  1  wished  to  see  how  much  I  could  mystify  you ; 
but  I  find  that  I  am  not  perfect  in  the  art  of  disguising 
myself,  and  since  I  cannot  successfully  carry  out  the  cha- 
racter I  have  assumed,  it  is  as  well  that  I  should  tell  you, 
at  once  and  openly,  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be  recognized. 
Henceforward  I  may  perhaps,  dispense  with  this  trouble- 
some mask,"  continued  she,  laughing;  "but  I  shall  wear 
a  close  veil  whenever  you  happen  to  call,  and  truly  1 
shall  be  happy  to  get  rid  of  the  tiresome  disguise — for 
even  thus  far  I  have  scarcely  been  able  to  restrain  my 
mirth  while  speaking  to  you.  The  other  night,  when  you 
put  on  that  look  of  horror  when  I  uncovered  my  face,  it 
was  almost  too  much  for  me.  I  had  to  rush  from  the  room 
in  order  to  restrain  myself  from  laughing  outright.  By- 
and-byeyou  may  perhaps  know  the  cause  of  this  singular 
deception.  I  now  trust  to  your  own  honor  and  the  promise 
you  have  given  Mrs.  Mason.  (I  will  so  designate  the  lady, 
as  it  is  awkward  to  leave  blanks,  though  of  course  this 
was  neither  her  real  name  nor  her  false  lover's  assumed 
name.)  I  trust  to  that  promise  that  you  will  not  make  any 


266  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

attempt  to  discover  more  than  I  think  proper  to  acquaint 
you  with.  Depend  upon  it,  however,  that  nothing  wrong 
is  intended."  So  saying,  she  wished  me  good  day,  and 
immediately  returned  to  the  apartment  of  her  sick  friend. 

I  returned  home  as  much  mystified  as  ever  and  scarce- 
.y  knowing  what  to  think  of  the  matter.  It  appeared  to 
me  that  I  was  playing  an  illicit  part  in  some  game  of 
deep  deception,  and  that  it  was  my  duty  either  to  insist 
that  all  should  be  explained  to  my  satisfaction,  or  else 
that  I  ought  to  refuse  to  pay  any  more  visits ;  but  then  I 
had  bound  myself  to  a  compact  of  secrecy,  and,  whatever 
might  be  plotting,  I  thought,  the  conspirators  are  only 
two  weak  women,  one  of  whom,  at  least,  is  truly  an 
object  of  commiseration.  I  therefore  determined  to  visit 
the  house  daily  and  to  trust  to  chance  for  some  explana- 
tion of  the  mystery  that  seemed  to  envelope  all  its  in- 
habitants. 

I  called  regularly  several  times  after  this,  but  was  al- 
ways introduced  to  the  lady  of  the  house  alone,  and 
whenever  I  did  by  chance  see  the  younger  female  she 
was  always  heavily  veiled,  so  that  it  was  quite  out  of 
the  question  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  features.  I  had, 
however,  became  exceedingly  curious  regarding  her,  and 
I  noticed  that  she  wore  several  richly  mounted  rings  on 
her  fingers,  but  none  on  the  third  finger  of  her  left 
hand.  Also,  that  she  wore  a  locket  of  singular  work- 
manship hanging  on  her  bosom.  Her  hands  were  beau- 
fully  formed  and  delicately  white,  and  her  tout  ensemble 
led  me  to  believe  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  wealthy 
parents,  who  by  some  unfortunate  accident  had  been  led 
astray,  and  who,  although  she  was  unwilling  to  leave 
her  friend  alone  in  her  present  condition,  was  desirous 
of  avoiding  recognition  by  those  who  had  known  her  in 
happier  days.  I  often  asked  myself  whether  it  were 
possible  that  we  had  met  before,  and  endeavored  to  form 
some  idea  as  to  whom  she  might  be  from  the  outline  of 
her  figure  and  her  voice ;  but  then  she  resembled  so 
many  young  ladies  of  my  acquaintance  in  these  respects 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  267 

that  from  such  vague  calculations  it  was  impossible  to 
draw  any  conclusion. 

One  day,  however,  while  passing  up  Broadway  I  was 
stopped  for  some  ten  minutes  at  a  crossing  in  consequence 
of  the  numerous  carriages  and  omnibuses  passing  to  and 
fro,  and  among  the  carriages  were  one  or  two  belonging 
to  private  families.  One  of  these  stopped  right  before 
me  and  the  blind  being  down  and  the  window  open,  I 
could  distinctly  see  the  persons  of  the  occupants.  They 
were  two  ladies,  one  of  whom  was  elderly  as  I  could  see 
by  her  features  which  were  turned  towards  me,  but  the 
other  had  a  green  silk  veil  before  her  face,  concealing 
her  features  as  far  as  the  chin.  I  should  have  taken  no 
especial  notice  of  them  had  not  the  younger  lady  raised 
her  arm  to  point  out  something  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street  to  her  companion,  and  to  my  astonishment  on 
her  fingers  were  the  very  rings  which  had  so  attracted 
my  attention  on  the  person  of  the  incognita  at  the  resi- 
dence of  my  mysterious  patient.  I  could  not  be  mis- 
taken, especially  in  one  of  them,  for  it  was  set  with  an 
amethyst  surrounded  by  diamonds  of  considerable  size, 
and  must  have  been  of  immense  value.  It  was  not  com- 
mon to  see  such  costly  rings  worn,  and  this  in  connection 
with  the  other  rings,  one  set  with  pearls  and  the  other 
with  garnets,  satisfied  me  that  the  occupant  of  the  car- 
riage could  be  no  other  than  the  unknown. 

Presently  the  carriage  moved  on,  and  I  asked  a  by- 
stander if  he  knew  to  whom  it  belonged  ;  but  he  could 
not  tell  me  and  I  repeated  my  question  to  several  others, 
so  often,  I  suspect,  that  they  began  to  think  me  crazy, 
but  I  was  so  anxious  to  gain  information  that  I  was  only 
brought  to  a  sense  of  the  folly  making  such  inquiries  in 
the  public  streets  by  finding  half  a  dozen  boys  collected 
round  me,  one  of  whom  said — 

"  If  yer  wants  to  know  who  the  ladies  is,  old  feller, 
yer'd  better  run  arter  the  machine  and  find  out ;"  while 
another  added : — 

"  Give  us  a  shillin,  old  feller,  and  I'll  run  and  ax  who 
they  be  and  save  yer  the  trouble." 


268  :-••      THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

Finding  that  in  my  eagerness  I  was  drawing  attention 
to  myself,  I  passed  on,  and  as  it  was  about  my  usual 
hour  of  calling  at  the  house  of  the  sick  lady,  I  made  the 
best  of  my  way  thither,  desirous  of  ascertaining  whether 
the  veiled  lady,  as  I  termed  her,  was  really  at  home  or 
not.  I  was  shown  up-stairs  by  the  servant  and  found 
my  patient  in  much  the  same  state  of  health  as  usual, 
although  it  was  evident  that  the  period  of  her  accouch- 
ment  was  approaching.  I  made  some  inquiry  respecting 
her  companion,  to  which  a  vague  answer  was  returned, 
and  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  asking  whether  I  had 
not  met  her  in  the  city  that  morning,  when  she  entered 
the  room,  her  face  veiled  as  usual,  apparently  as  though 
she  had  been  sitting  until  then  in  the  next  apartment,  as 
was  usual  with  her  during  the  time  I  remained  with  my 
patient.  I  was  somewhat  surprised ;  nevertheless,  I 
glanced  immediately  at  the  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  was 
more  than  ever  satisfied  that  she  who  wore  those  rings 
was  the  lady  I  had  met  in  the  carriage  that  day.  When 
I  quitted  the  sick  chamber  and  went  down  stairs,  I 
stopped  a  few  minutes  in  the  parlor  and  took  up  one  of 
the  morning  papers  which  laid  upon  the  table  ;  a  para- 
graph had  been  cut  from  it,  and  while  I  was  reading  a 
column  on  the  other  side,  the  incognita  came  into  the 
room,  and,  not  perceiving  me,  as  I  was  sitting  near  the 
door,  she  advanced  to  the  table  for  the  purpose  as  I 
imagined  of  taking  up  the  paper,  for  missing  it  from  the 
table,  she  glanced  on  the  floor,  and  then  turning  round 
she  caught  sight  of  me : — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  doctor,"  she  said,  "  I  really 
thought  you  had  gone." 

"I  presume,"  said  I,  "  that  you  are  looking  for  this 
newspaper,  which  I  removed  from  the  table." 

"I  was,"  she  replied  ;  "I  generally  read  the  paper  to 
Mrs.  Mason,  every  day;  but  there  is  no  hurry.  I  beg 
you  to  be  seated  again." 

"  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  going  home,"  said  I,  hand- 
ing her  the  newspaper;  "I  was  only  reading  this  in- 
teresting report  of  the  Historical  Society,  but  it  is  spoiled 


STRAY  LEAVES  PROM  MY  JOURNAL.  269 

for  reading  in  consequence  of  a  paragraph  on  the  column 
on  the  opposite  side,  having  been  cut  out." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lady,  in  a  flurried  manner,  as  I 
thought,  "It  is  a  mere  trifle  that  I  cut  out  to  paste  in  my 
album.  I  am  in  the  habit  of  doing  so,"  and  she  hastily 
took  the  paper  from  my  hand. 

I  could  not  resist  the  inclination  to  ask  her  if  she  had 
not  been  riding  in  the  city,  and  whether  I  had  not  met 
her  in  a  carriage  in  Broadway  that  morning? 

She  started  as  if  struck  by  an  electric  spark,  and  for 
some  moments  did  not  reply.  At  length  sne  said,  hesi- 
tatingly, and  in  rather  an  angry  tone  of  voice  : — 

"  I  was  abroad  in  the  city  to-day.  It  is  no  use  denying 
it.  It  is  these  rings  that  have  betrayed  me.  They  shall 
not  do  so  again." 

"Your  incognito,  Miss,"  I  replied,  good  humoredly, 
"  is  safe  as  ever  it  was,  for  I,  as  you  must  be  aware,  could 
not  see  your  features,  neither  do  I  know  whose  carriage 
it  was  you  were  riding  in." 

"  And  if  you  keep  your  implied  promise,  you  will  not 
seek  to  know,"  she  replied,  endeavoring  to  assume  a 
lively  tone  of  speaking,  although  I  could  see  that  it  was 
feigned,  "  at  least,"  she  added,  "  until  I  remove  the  em- 
bargo I  have  placed  you  under." 

"  You  may  trust  me,"  said  I,  as  I  rose  from  my  chair 
and  bade  her  good  morning. 

When  I  reached  home  the  idea  came  into  my  head  to 
find  out  what  was  the  nature  of  the  paragraph  which  had 
been  cut  from  the  paper,  my  knowledge  of  which  had 
apparently  considerably  annoyed  the  lady ;  and  as  I  had 
noticed  the  portion  of  the  paper  from  which  it  had  been 
cut,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  it  in  a  copy  of  the  jour- 
nal that  was  lying  in  my  parlor. 

It  was  a  short  paragraph  in  the  midst  of  the  news  from 
California,  a  steamer  having  arrived  the  previous  day, 
and  related  simply  to  the  arrival  at  Sacramento,  of  a 
young  man,  who,  it  hinted,  had  left  New  York  under 
suspicious  circumstances,  and  who  had  arrived  at  San 
Francisco  by  a  former  steamer.  The  paragraph  was, 


270  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

however,  perfectly  vague,  excepting  to  those  who  were 
aware  of  some  prior  circumstances  to  which  the  editor 
alluded,  and  I  was  not  among  the  number ;  but  I  was 
strongly  impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  young  man  was 
the  husband  or  lover  of  my  patient,  and  that  the  young 
lady  had  cut  it  out  purposely,  to  prevent  it  being  seen 
by  her  friend.  I  could  not  conceive  any  plausible  reason 
why  it  should  be  so ;  nevertheless,  I  was  induced  to  lay 
the  paper  carefully  aside,  in  order  that  I  might  again  re- 
fer to  it  should  I  have  occasion,  and  I  determined  to 
watch  in  future  for  the  news  from  California,  and  see  if 
I  could  gain  by  this  means,  some  clue  to  the  mystery  in 
which  my  patient  appeared  to  be  involved. 

A  few  days  after  this  occurrence,  Mrs.  Mason  became 
the  mother  of  a  fine  boy.  1  had  previously  hinted  the 
propriety  of  engaging  a  nurse,  but  had  been  told  that 
the  servant  girl  whom  I  had  frequently  seen  in  the  house, 
was  perfectly  qualified  to  act  in  that  capacity, 'and  indeed 
had  been  hired  with  that  object  in  view. 

I  attended  the  young  lady  during  her  confinement  and 
her  subsequent  illness,  and  was  happy  to  find  that  she 
recovered  her  health  more  rapidly  than  under  the  circum- 
stances I  had  anticipated. 

She  appeared  to  derive  great  consolation  from  the  fact 
of  her  child  being  so  strong  and  healthy  as  he  was.  Her 
maternal  solicitude  had  twice  met  with  disappointment, 
and  she  had  evidently  feared  that  the  third  time  she 
would  be  equally  unfortunate. 

Eight  weeks  had  now  passed  away  since  the  confine- 
ment of  my  patient,  and  she  was  restored  to  a  much  bet- 
ter state  of  health  than  I  had  ever  thought  to  have  seen 
her  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit.  For  the  last  three 
weeks,  my  visits  had  only  been  occasional,  and  now,  on 
my  leaving  her  room,  she  told  me  that  she  felt  so  well 
that  she  did  not  think  there  was  any  occasion  for  me  to 
repeat  my  visits,  and  as  she  said  this,  she  placed  a  bank- 
note of  considerable  value  in  my  hand — far  exceeding  in 
amount  any  sum  that  I  should  have  charged  for  my  pro- 
fessional services.  I  hesitated — for  in  the  first  place  I 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  271 

was  doubtful  within  myself,  whether  to  make  any  charge, 
or  at  least,  I  had  determined  to  wait  a  considerable  time 
before  I  presented  my  bill ;  and  then  I  would  freely  have 
given  the  whole  sum  to  have  had  a  full  explanation  of 
the  reasons  she  had  for  observing  such  secrecy. 

I  had  pleased  myself  with  the  idea  that  perhaps  when 
I  had  generously  refused  any  remuneration  for  my  ser- 
vices, I  might  perhaps  be  told  all — out  of  sheer  gratitude  ; 
but  the  lady,  observing  my  agitation,  said — 

"  I  understand  the  kindness  of  your  motives,  doctor ; 
but  I  arn  well  able  to  pay  for  any  services  you  have  done 
me.  And  now,"  she  added,  archly,  "  I  do  not  release 
you  as  yet  from  your  promise ;  but  in  a  short  time,  if  my 
child  remains  in  good  health,  I  will  tell  you  all — nay, 
perhaps  seek  advice  from  you.  Meanwhile,  oblige  me 
by  the  acceptance  of  this  trifle  (drawing  a  ring  from  her 
finger)  as  a  proof  of  my  gratitude  for  services  rendered 
under  circumstances  that  few,  perhaps,  would  have  been 
satisfied  with.  Call  upon  me,  if  you  please,  eight  weeks 
hence,  and  in  all  probability  you  will  be  released  from 
your  promise  of  secrecy." 

At  the  expiration  of  the  specified  time,  I  called  as  re 
quested,  but  to  my  astonishment  and  disappointment,  I 
found  the  shutters  closed  and  the  house  deserted. 

Fearful  that  some  accident  might  have  happened,  to 
have  caused  this  unexpected  removal  of  its  inmates,  and 
blaming  myself  for  not  having  made  public  what,  after 
all,  I  had  no  business  to  have  done,  I  sought  out  the  land- 
lord of  the  house  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  his 
late  tenants  had  removed. 

He  did  not. 

"  Did  they  give  notice  of  their  intention  to  remove  ?" 
I  asked. 

"  No,"  replied  he.  "  I  believe  their  removal  was  quite 
unexpected  to  themselves.  Indeed  the  rent  was  paid  in 
advance  by  the  husband  of  the  lady,  who  is  in  Califor- 
nia, 1  believe,  until  November  next;  there  is  still  three 
months  to  run.  It  is  a  strange  proceeding  altogether,  for 
the  gentleman  insisted  on  paying  me  in  advance,  and 


272  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

since  the  removal  of  his  wife,  I  find  that  he  gave  me  a 
false  name ;  and  of  course,  under  the  circumstances,  J 
was  not  particular  in  asking  for  references." 

"  How  did  you  learn  that  the  name  was  false  ?"  asked  I, 

"I  went  to  a  gentleman  of  the  same  name  in  Wall- 
street,  who,  on  taking  the  house,  he  said  was  a  relative 
of  his.  He  knows  nothing  at  all  about  him.  However, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  all  is  right  enough.  I  shall  not 
let  the  house  until  the  term  is  expired,  and  then,  if  I  hear 
nothing  from  any  of  the  parties,  it  is  open  for  a  new 
tenant." 

Thus  I  was  completely  baffled,  just  when  I  thought 
the  mystery  was  to  be  cleared  up.  I  thought  it  my  duty, 
without  giving  improper  publicity  to  the  circumstances, 
to  institute  every  inquiry  that  I  could,  privately  ;  but  all 
was  to  no  purpose;  and  as  weeks  passed  on,  my  curiosity 
began  to  wear  away,  although  I  continued  to  peruse  the 
California  news  carefully,  and  several  times  fancied  I 
saw  some  remarks  which  could  be  connected  with  those 
of  the  first  paragraph  that  had  arrested  my  attention. 

Three  months  after  this  visit  of  mine  to  the  empty 
house  of  my  former  patient,  I  read  in  the  morning  papers 
that  a  male  child,  apparently  about  four  or  five  months 
old,  had  been  found  drowned  in  the  Hudson  river,  under 
circumstances  which  led  to  the  belief  that  its  death  had 
been  occasioned  by  violence.  The  child  was  described 
as  being  attired  in  superior  clothing,  and  as  showing 
every  appearance  of  having  been  in  good  health  up  to 
the  time  of  its  death. 

Had  it  not  been  that  the  age  of  the  child  corresponded 
with  that  of  Mrs.  Mason,  I  should  have  taken  little  heed 
of  such  a  paragraph  as  this — they  are  unfortunately  too 
numerous — but  the  particular  age,  and  the  fact  that  the 
child  seemed  to  have  come  to  his  death  by  violence,  led 
me  to  seek  out  the  coroner,  and  with  him  to  attend  the 
inquest. 

The  body  of  the  infant  had  been  laid  out  in  a  police 
office  near  the  spot  where  it  had  been  fished  out  of  the 
water,  and  that  it  had  not  been  long  in  the  water  was 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  273 

evident  from  the  fact  that  decomposition  had  scarcely 
commenced. 

Around  its  neck  was  a  string  of  small  coral  beads, 
such  as  I  had  once  or  twice  noticed  on  Mrs.  Mason's 
child,  and  although  I  could  not  distinguish  the  features, 
I  almost  mechanically  raised  the  sleeve  of  the  left  arm, 
and  there,  sure  enough,  was  a  peculiarly  shaped  mole  or 
birth-mark,  that  I  had  frequently  noticed  on  the  infant 
at  whose  birth  I  had  been  present,  and  in  my  own  mind 
I  was  satisfied  that  this  was  my  unfortunate  patient's 
child  ;  but  what  could  I  do?  I  did  not  even  know  the 
name  of  its  parents.  It  was  the  belief  of  all  present  that 
the  infant  had  been  purposely  thrown  into  the  river,  and 
perhaps  that  its  mother  had  committed  the  double  crime 
of  infanticide  and  suicide;  and  there  was  nothing  left 
but  to  return  a  verdict  in  accordance  with  the  circum- 
stances. 

Months  passed  away — I  cannot  say  how  many ;  but 
perhaps  it  was  nine  months  after  the  discovery  of  the 
child,  that  I  was  called  upon  by  a  respectable  and  elderly 
female  who  was  attired  in  mourning,  and  whose  features 
showed  that  she  was  overburthened  with  grief. 

On  being  shown  into  my  private  room,  she  for  some 
time  was  so  overpowered  with  emotion  that  she  was  un- 
ble  to  speak.  At  length  she  found  utterance,  and  asked 
me  if  I  had  not  attended  the  accouchement  of  a  lady  who 
lived  near  the  Bloomingdale  road  (mentioning  the  place 
of  residence  of  my  mysterious  patient.)  I  replied  that  I 
had  done  so.  "Pray,  madam,"  I  asked,  "was  she  a  re- 
lation of  yours?" 

The  poor  lady  burst  into  tears,  as  she  murmured  in 
scarcely  audible  tones,  "  she  was  my  daughter,  sir;"  and 
then  she  added,  ''  and  I  fear  she  has  been  made  away 
with." 

"  Good  God !"  I  exclaimed,  "  what  do  you  mean  ;  who 
gave  you  such  information,  and  how  did  you  learn  that 
I  attended  the  unhappy  lady ;  for  from  her  lips  I  could 
gather  nothing  relating  to  her  family  further  than  that 
she  had  a  mother  residing  in  Brooklyn  ;  and  she  left  the 

12* 


274  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

house,  strangely  enough,  just  as  I  thought  the  curiosity 
she  had  aroused  was  on  the  point  of  being  gratified." 

"  I  fear  she  did  not  leave  the  house  of  her  own  accord,' 
replied  the  poor  lady.  ''Oh,  why  could  she  not  trust 
her  mother!  If  the  world  had  forsaken  her,  I  never 
should  have  done  so.  Poor  thing!  she  was  not  in  fault," 
and  as  she  said  this,  the  poor  creature  again  succumbed 
beneath  the  violence  of  her  emotions. 

She  had  strangely  acquired  information,  which  by  de- 
grees, and  by  using  considerable  tact  in  soothing  her 
mind,  I  extracted  from  her.  It  was  a  tale  of  horror  that 
she  told — such  an  one  as  is  calculated  to  make  one's 
blood  freeze  in  one's  veins  to  listen  to ;  but  the  hour  is 
late,  and  night,  though  best  fitted  for  deeds  of  darkness, 
is  not  the  best  period  to  narrate  or  listen  to  such  horrors 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  275 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

I  STOPPED  short  in  my  story  just  at  the  point  where 
the  mother  of  my  mysterious  and  ill-fated  patient  was 
about  to  enlighten  me,  as  I  hoped,  with  regard  to  the 
singular  and  abrupt  disappearance  of  her  daughter. 

The  poor  woman  had  fainted,  and  it  was  some  time- 
before  she  was  in  a  condition  to  collect  her  scattered 
thoughts  and  to  proceed  with  the  narrative  of  her  daugh- 
ter's unfortunate  marriage,  and,  as  she  believed,  untimely 
fate. 

After  all,  on  this  occasion  her  narrative  was  disjointed, 
and,  as  I  imagined,  exaggerated ;  but  she  told  enough  to 
enable  me,  with  what  I  learnt  subsequently,  to  connect 
the  several  parts,  and  by  this  means,  by  degrees,  trace 
the  villainous  complot  through  all  its  intricacies. 

"  What  reason  have  you,  Madam,  for  the  suspicion 
you  appear  to  entertain  that  your  daughter  has  been 
made  away  with?"  inquired  I,  as  soon  as  the  widow  had 
regained  her  composure.  "Possibly,"  I  continued,  "you 
may  be  mistaken.  We  should  never  look  to  the  dark 
side  while  a  blink  of  sunshine  bids  us  hope  for  brighter 
days."  This  I  said  to  encourage  the  poor  lady ;  not  on 
account  of  any  hopes  I  entertained  myself,  after  what 
had  passed ;  but  I  was  aware  that  if  the  poor  creature 
gave  way  to  despair,  she  would  be  unable  to  narrate  the 
incidents  which  had  come  to  her  knowledge,  and  although 
I  feared  that  my  unfortunate  patient  was  beyond  all  hu- 
man aid,  I  had  a  great  anxiety  that  those  who  had  de- 
ceived and  then  abandoned  and  perhaps  caused  her 
death,  should  be  brought  to  justice,  and  made  to  answer 
for  their  crimes. 

"  What  reason  have  I,  doctor?"  replied  the  poor  lady, 
in  a  tone  of  voice  so  helpless  and  despairing,  and  with  so 
wild  a  look,  that  it  made  me  fear  that  1  had  been  too  ab- 


276  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

rupt,  and  that  she  was  again  upon  the  point  of  giving 
way  to  her  emotions.  "What  reason  have  I?  Read 
that  letter,  and  then  say  whether  I  have  reason  or  not  ir 
my  supposition." 

I  took  the  letter  as  requested.  It  was  written  in  a 
hand  evidently  disguL°jd — that  is  to  say,  it  appeared  as 
if  it  had  been  written  with  the  left  hand  instead  of  the 
right,  and  it  is  a  singular  fact,  that  although  hand- writings 
differ  as  much  as  human  faces  do,  there  perhaps  being  no 
two  hand- writings  exactly  alike,  if  written  naturally,  the 
hand-writing  of  almost  every  person  is  similar  when  the 
left  hand  is  used.  The  only  thing  that  I  was  confident 
of,  was,  that  from  the  peculiarity  and  delicacy  of  the 
strokes,  the  letter  had  been  written  by  a  woman. 

To  my  surprise,  it  was  dated  a  long  time  back,  and 
from  the  appearance  of  the  edges,  it  had  been  carried  for 
a  considerable  time  in  some  person's  pocket.  The  date 
was,  as  nearly  as  I  could  recollect,  a  few  weeks  after  the 
period  that  my  mysterious  and  interesting  patient  had  be- 
come for  the  third  time  a  mother.  Its  contents  were  as 
follows : — 

.  "  NEW  YORK,  Sept.,  1849. 

"  MADAM  :  I  am  requested  to  inform  you  that  your 
daughter  Mary,  who  is  too  feeble  to  write  herself,  and  who 
has  for  some  time  past  estranged  herself  from  you,  has 
become  the  mother  of  a  fine  healthy  child  (a  boy).  To 
you,  the  intelligence  of  her  marriage  may  be  strange ; 
for,  for  some  years  past,  you  have  not  heard  anything  of 
her — but  though  she  has  not  communicated  personally 
with  you,  she  has  often  been  near  you,  and  it  has  been 
from  her  that  you  have  so  frequently  received  presents, 
which  possibly  you  have  not  known  how  to  account  for. 
It  has  been  her  husband's  wish  that  the  marriage  should 
not  be  made  public,  and  her  husband's  command  still 
forbids  her  seeing  you  ;  but  she  can  no  longer  resist  the 
yearning  that  has  possessed  her  to  acquaint  you  that  she 
is  still  living,  and  happier  than  she  has  ever  been  in  the 
health  of  this  her  third  child — the  two  former  children 
Having  died,  one  at  the  moment  of  its  birth,  the  other  a 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  277 

few  days  afterwards.  Perhaps  ere  long  the  embargo  that 
has  been  laid  upon  your  daughter  by  her  husband,  may 
be  taken  off;  in  which  case  she  will  be  only  too  happy 
to  throw  herself  into  your  arms,  and  personally  to  beg 
your  forgiveness  for  the  uneasiness  she  may  have  caused. 
Meanwhile,  for  the  present,  rest  content  with  this  infor- 
matioHj  and  accept  from  your  daughter  the  enclosed  sum 
of  $50.  It  may  be  of  service  to  you,  and  will  convince 
you  that  she  is  well  cared  for  when  she  thus  has  money 
at  her  disposal." 

The  letter  was  signed — 

"  One  who  is  anxiously  watching  over  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  your  daughter." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  after  having  read  the  letter  carefully, 
and  examined  the  date,  "  I  cannot  see  that  this  letter  is 
calculated  to  lead  you  to  imagine  that  anything  serious 
has  happened  to  your  child.  It  would  rather  serve  to 
show,  as  it  was  evidently  intended  to  do  by  the  writer, 
that  your  daughter  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  com- 
fort that  could  be  bestowed  upon  one  in  her  situation ; 
although  of  course,  it  is  natural  enough  that  you,  as  her 
mother,  should  be  anxious  to  be  near  your  daughter  at 
such  a  period,  especially  after  having  been  so  long  sepa- 
rated from  her.  The  letter,  I  perceive,  is  dated  some 
months  back — somewhere  about  the  period  of  her  last  in- 
fant's birth,  I  should  think,  as  in  fact  is  indicated  by  the 
writer.  Indeed  about  that  time  I  must  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  paying  her  occasional  professional  visits.  Tell 
me,  madam,  were  the  hopes  held  out  that  you  might  per- 
haps shortly  be  permitted  to  see  your  daughter  ever  re- 
alized . 

"Alas !  no !"  replied  the  poor  woman.  "I  have  shown 
you  that  letter,  doctor,  not  because  there  was  anything 
especially  alarming  in  the  letter  itself;  although  you  will 
illow  there  was  sufficient  to  load  the  mind  of  a  mother 
with  anxiety  and  unpleasant  forebodings — but  because  it 
was  the  first  link  in  the  chain  which  at  length  brought 
me  to  suspect,  nay,  almost  to  be  certain,  that  something 


278  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

0 

dreadful  has  happened  to  my  poor  girl.  I  fear  tha 
she  was  not  married;  but  instead  of  that,  deceived  by  a 
false  marriage,  and  kept  as  a  mistress,  under  the  belief 
that  she  was  a  wife,  by  one  of  the  most  unprincipled 
wretches  that  New  York  has  ever  produced;  and  that 
after  having  committed  a  crime  which  compelled  him  to 
fly  from  the  city,  he  has,  by  the  aid  of  accomplices,  har- 
dened and  debased  himself,  murdered  my  poor  girl  and 
her  innocent  babe,  in  order  that  at  some  future  day  they 
might  not  become  witnesses  against  him,  and  that  he 
might  be  untrammeled  in  the  reckless  career  he  has 
marked  out  for  himself.  My  daughter's  connection  with 
him,  would  at  least  have  prevented  him  from  attempting 
to  deceive  others  in  this  city,  and  would  perhaps  have  led 
to  his  exposure,  involuntarily  on  her  part.  To  prevent 
this,  he  has  ruthlessly  murdered  his  wife,  in  the  sight  of 
heaven,  and  his  child.  Oh,  sir,  the  debased  libertine  is 
more  cruel  than  the  savage — for  he,  in  his  wildest  mood, 
watches  over  the  safety  of  his  offspring,  and  at  least  while 
it  needs  a  mother's  care,  he  is  kind  to  the  mother. 

"  Why  is  not  justice  administered  alike  to  rich  land 
poor  ?  Why  is  money  in  a  country  like  this,  allowed  to 
purchase  immunity  from  punishment?  Had  a  poor,  pen- 
niless wretch  deceived  a  confiding  girl  as  this  villain  de- 
ceived my  daughter,  and  subsequently  committed  a  crime 
of  one-tenth  the  magnitude  this  wretch  has  committed,  he 
would  at  least  have  been  put  out  of  harm's  way,  and 
compelled  to  expiate  his  guilt  in  the  State  prison.  But 
no — no — not  so  with  those  who  have  gold,  or  friends 
whose  reputations  would  be  sullied  by  their  conviction. 
No,  they  commit  crime  with  impunity.  They  may  ruin 
their  duped  tradesmen ;  they  may  rob  their  employers 
of  thousands,  and  all  is  hushed  up,  forsooth  !  because 
they  are  the  children  of  respectable  parents  and  have  friends 
moving  in  respectable  circles,  whose  dignity  would  be 
compromised  by  their  conviction,  and  thus  they  are  let 
loose  upon  society,  submitting  to  a  temporary  withdrawal 
from  the  scene  of  their  iniquities,  while  they  are  hatching 
schemes  of  future  evil.  Why — why  is  this?  Why 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  279 

should  the  wealthy  scoundrel  be  held  lightly  to  blame 
for  the  weightiest  crimes,  while  the  poor,  half-starved 
wretch  is  severely  punished  for  stealing  a  loaf  of  bread 
to  save  himself  from  starvation  ?" 

For  some  time  the  poor  woman,  whose  mind  I  feared 
was  touched  by  the  trouble  she  had  undergone,  went  on 
in  this  manner. 

I  let  her  have  her  own  way,  and  when  her  passion 
had  subsided,  and  her  grief  had  assumed  a  more  tranquil 
form  I  said : — 

"You  say  that  the  hopes  held  out  that  you  might 
shortly  see  your  daughter  were  not  realized ;  neverthe- 
less, I  presume,  from  what  has  fallen  from  your  lips,  that 
you  have  had  intelligence  of  your  daughter  of  a  later 
date  than  that  given  in  the  letter  ?" 

"  I  have,  doctor,"  she  replied.  "  A  few  weeks  after 
the  receipt  of  this  letter,  which  plunged  me  into  such  a 
state  of  excitement  as  almost  to  drive  me  crazy,  for  it 
was  the  first  time  for  some  years  that  I  had  heard  of  my 
daughter,  though  I  had  received  various  JJjjgsS^jg  and 
valuable  and  useful  articles,  which  I  had  fcaff-dotfbting, 
half- hoping  attributed  to  her.  I  say  a  few  weeks  after 
the  receipt  of  this  letter,  I  received  a  verbal  message  by 
a  little  girl,  who  said  she  had  been  commissioned  to 
deliver  it  by  a  lady  in  the  street,  who  had  given  her  a 
shilling  for  her  trouble — to  the  effect,  that  if  I  would 
call  at  a  stated  hour  on  the  following  day,  at  a  house  she 
described,  situated  near  the  Bloomingdale  road,  I  would 
see  my  daughter,  who  desired  an  interview  with  me. 
This  was  all  the  messenger  knew,  and  having  delivered 
her  errand  she  went  away,  and  left  me  under  the  impres- 
sion that  I  should  meet  my  daughter — my  dear  Mary — 
on  the  following  day.  Accordingly  I  went  as  requested  ; 
indeed,  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  see  my  poor  girl  again, 
and  to  assure  her  of  her  mother's  perfect  forgiveness  of 
all  the  anxiety  that  her  elopement  had  caused,  that 
I  was  in  the  neighborhood  long  before  the  appointed 
time ;  but  fearful  that  she  might  have  wished  to  see  me — 
her  mother — without  the  knowledge  of  her  husband — 


280  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

and  that  if  I  betrayed  over  much  anxiety,  and  made  my 
appearance  before  the  designated  hour,  I  might  perhaps 
create  mischief — I  waited  near  the  house  till  the  hour 
mentioned  by  the  little  girl  had  struck.  I  was  the  more 
easily  led  to  do  this  in  consequence  of  seeing  atravelling 
carriage  in  front  of  the  house  which  had  been  described 
to  me  as  the  one  that  I  was  to  visit — would  to  God  I  had 
been  actuated  by  no  such  scruples!  perhaps  then  my 
poor  girl's  fate  might  have  been  averted. 

*'  In  a  short  time  the  carriage  rolled  past  me,  the  blinds 
closed,  and  the  top  heavily  laden  with  luggage,  and  1 
thought  I  heard  stifled  sobs  within  the  carriage,  which  a 
mother's  instinct  told  me  issued  from  the  breast  of  her 
child ;  but  I  banished  the  idea  as  a  mere  vagary.  My 
fancy  has  deceived  me.  '  It  is  my  child's  husband,'  said 
I  to  myself,  '  who  is  going  on  a  journey,  and  my  dear  girl 
has  watched  this  opportunity  to  see  her  mother  again.' 

"The  carriage  rolled  on,  and  an  hour  afterwards  a 
church  clock  near  by  struck  twelve,  the  hour  designated 
by  the  messenger  for  my  visit.  I  hurried  to  the  house, 
forgetful  of  everything,  and  filled  with  the  idea  that  in  a 
few  short  minutes  I  should  be  clasped  in  my  repentant 
daughter's  fond  embrace. 

"  I  ascended  the  steps  which  led  to  the  hall  door,  and 
rang  the  bell — there  was  no  answer ;  again  and  again  I 
rang  with  desperate  energy  at  the  door,  but  in  vain.  A 
strange  sensation  of  faintness  came  over  me,  and  I  think 
I  should  have  fallen  on  the  step,  for  the  reverberation  of 
the  tingling  bell  through  the  deserted  house  sounded 
ominously  to  my  ears,  and  seemed  to  ring  the  knell  of  all 
the  hopes  I  had  fondly  entertained  of  seeing  my  dear 
child  again.  When  just  at  the  moment  that  I  felt  the 
sickening  sensation  about  to  overpower  me,  a  young  wo- 
man came  to  the  door,  and  proceeded  with  a  latch-key  to 
open  it. 

'' '  Who  may  ye  be  wanting  here?'  said  she,  with  a 
strong  Irish  accent. 

"  '  I  am  seeking  Miss  W ,'  I  replied,  forgetting  in 

my  excitement  that  my  daughter  would  not  be  known 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  281 

by  her  maiden  name,  and  that  I  was  ignorant  of  that 
which  she  had  assumed  on  the  occasion  (as  I  then  be- 
lieved) of  her  marriage. 

" '  Sure  there  be's  no  person  of  that  name  a  living 
here,'  said  the  girl,  who  had  withdrawn  the  latch-key  in 
addressing  me. 

"  '  Who  does  live  here  ?'  I  gasped  forth,  and  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  I  added,  '  Are  you  a  servant  to  the 
family  ?' 

"  '  Sure  I'm  the  hired  help,  and  the  nurse  to  the  young 
misthress's  child,'  replied  the  young  woman,  somewhat 
indignantly — but,  immediately  perceiving  my  excited 
and  feeble  condition,  she  continued,  with  true  Irish  feel- 
ing, '  You're  not  well,  ma'am.  No  matter  whether  ye 
be's  mistaken  in  the  house  or  not,  ye'll  be  welcome  to 
come  in  and  rest  yourself  awhile,  and  I'm  sure  the 
misthress  won't  complain,  nor  Mrs. neither.' 

"I  did  not  catch  the  sound  of  the  latter  name,  for  as 
she  said  this,  the  girl  turned  the  latch-key,  and  evidently 
to  her  surprise  found  the  door  was  locked. 

"  'This  is  strange,'  said  she,  'but  perhaps  Misthress 
Mason  and  her  friend  be  gone  out  for  a  walk,  and  have 
locked  the  door,  not  expictin'  me  back  so  soon.  How- 
somever,  I  knows  a  way  to  get  in  at  the  window,  and  if 
ye'll  wait  awhile,  good  woman,  I'll  let  you  in.' 

"  So  saying,  the  young  woman  descended  the  area,  and 
fumbliug'about  the  kitchen  window,  she  soon  effected  an 
entrance,  and  beckoned  me  to  enter  the  house  by  the 
same  way. 

"It  seemed  like  a  wrong  method  of  proceeding  on  my 
part,  but  I  was  wearied  with  walking  and  waiting,  and 
so  tired  that  I  was  glad  to  get  a  little  rest  before  my 
daughter's  return,  for  I  had  no  suspicion  that  the  Mrs. 
Mason  spoken  of  was  my  child,  and  that,  as  the  servant 
had  suggested,  she  and  the  female  companion  before 
spoken  of  had  gone  out  together,  after  the  departure  of 
her  husband  in  the  carriage,  and  had  locked  the  door,  in 
sonsequence  of  the  absence  of  the  girl. 

"  Sit  ye  down,  ma'am,'  said  the  girl,  '  and  I'll  go  up- 


THE   OLD  DOCTOR;    OR, 

stairs  and  see  where  he's  the  misthress.  May  be  it's  asleep 
she  is.' 

"  She  left  the  kitchen,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  returned. 

"  '  Holy  mother !'  was  her  exclamation  as  she  entered  ; 
1  sure  the  misthress  is  gone,  and  the  lady,  and  the  baby, 
and  the  thrunks,  and  clothes,  and  everything!  Oh, 
worra,  worra ! — now  I  see  why  I  was  sent  away  into  the 
city  this  morning.' 

"  '  What  is  the  matter  ?'  said  I,  becoming  alarmed  at 
the  agitation  displayed  by  the  young  woman. 

"  '  Matter  enow !'  she  replied.  '  Sure  that  black  a  vised 
man  with  big  whiskers,  as  corned  here  last  night,  has  car- 
ried off  the  misthress  and  every  thing  else  in  the  house, 
except  the  furniture,  and  that  belongs  to  the  landlord.' , 

"  '  What,  have  they  all  gone  away  ?'  I  said,  scarcely 
knowing,  indeed,  what  it  was  that  I  was  saying. 

" '  Yes,  misthress'  clothes  is  all  gone,  and  so  are  her 
trunks  and  bandboxes,  and  those  of  the  other  young  lady, 
and  all  the  things  belonging  to  the  dear  little  baby,  which 
I  was  as  fond  of  as  if  it  was  my  child — gone — gone — all 
gone !'  and  the  girl  sat  down  and  swung  herself  to  and 
fro,  as  is  customary  in  moments  of  intense  sorrow  amongst 
the  peasantry  of  the  west  of  Ireland. 

"I  was  scarcely  less  affected ;  but  desirous  to  ascertain 
all  I  could,  I  waited  until  the  impetuous  burst  of  grief 
on  the  part  of  the  poor  girl  had  expended  itself,  and 
then  asked  her  to  explain  how  it  was  that  she  had  been 
absent  so  long  from  the  house  as  she  must  necessarily 
have  been,  to  admit  of  so  much  work  having  been  ef- 
fected. 

"  '  Sure,'  she  replied,  '  didn't  a  black  a  vised  man  wid 
dark,  bushy  whiskers  come  here  last  night  and  see  the 
misthress,  and  when  I  went  up  stairs  she  and  the  young 
'ady,  too,  was  a  crying,  and  the  man  ordthered  me  to  go 
<)ut  of  the  room,  and  after  a  time  he  went  to  bed  in  a 
spare  room,  and  this  morning  afther  breakfast,  misthress 
called  me  up  stairs,  and  she  says — "  Bridget,  your  month's 
wages  is  due  ;"  and  I  says,  "  yes,  marm  ;  but  that  don't 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  288 

make  no  odds ;"  but  the  strange  man  was  there,  and  I 
didn't  say  no  mere,  and  then  misthress  she  paid  me  the 
money,  and  the  sthranger  he  says,  "  Bridget,  the  misthress 
tells  me  as  you've  been  a  good  help  to  her  in  her  throuble, 
and  as  I'm  a  friend  of  her  husband's,  here  be's  a  dollar, rt 
says  he,  "  to  add  to  your  wages ;  and  now,  my  good  girl, 
ye  can  go  to  the  city  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  buy  any- 
thing you  may  be  in  need  of,  only,"  says  he,  "  be  back  by 
twelve  o'clock." 

"  '  I  didn't  much  like  the  way  he  spoke,  as  if  he  was 
masther  of  the  house  ;  but  I  looked  at  the  misthress  and 
the  young  lady  as  lived  with  her,  and  neither  of  'em  said 
anything  agin  my  going,  and  so,  as  I  wanted  to  buy  a 
new  dress,  I  went  off,  and  that's  all  I  know  'till  I  corned 
back  and  found  that  the  misthress  and  all  of  'em  hacl 
gone.' 

" '  And  the  strange  gentleman,  then,  was  not  your  mis- 
tress' husband  ?'  said  I. 

"  '  No,  indeed,'  replied  the  young  woman  ;  '  he  was 
much  older;  and  besides,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't 
believe  as  the  misthress  were  really  married,  forbye  she's 
lived  three  or  four  years  with  the  man  she  called  her 
husband,  who  be's  gone  to  California.  John,  the  coach- 
man, who  is  gone  with  them,  and  who  knows  more  nor 
he  cares  to  tell,  about  his  rnasther,  hinted  as  much  to  me, 
the  vagabone,  one  night,  when  he  wanted  me  to  buckle 
on  till  him,  as  he  said,  in  the  same  free  and  easy  way  as 
the  masther  and  misthress  had  done,  and  when  I  spurned 
and  scolded  the  vagabone,  he  up  and  tould  rne  as  Mrs. 
Mason  was  only  a  keptness,  as  he  said,  of  his  masther, 
and  that  there  was  no  harm  in  our  doing  what  the  gen- 
tle folks  set  us  an  example  in  doing.  He  didn't  come 
blarney  over  me,  though,  and  since  then  I've  kept  him 
at  a  distance;  but  what  he  said  sot  me  to  work  a  think- 
ing, and  putting  this  and  that  together,  I  b'lieve  he  was 
right.' 

"  I  had  half  unconsciously  listened  to  the  latter  part 
of  this  story  of  the  servant  girl's,  for  my  poor  brain  was 
bewildered,  and  I  felt  as  though,  some  one  had  struck  me  a 


THE   OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

heavy  blow  that  had  half  deprived  me  of  my  senses,  and 
I  asked  mechanically  : — 

"  '  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  Mr.  Mason  ?' 

"  '  Is  it  the  master  ye  mean?'  asked  the  young  woman  ; 
'  troth  and  I  never  seen  him,  and  I  don't  b'lieve  as  his 
name  was  Mason  at  all — from  what  I've  heard  I  b'lievt 
as  he  was  a  vagabone  who  had  imposed  on  the  poor  young 
misthress  from  first  to  last ;  but  she  was  a  nice,  mild, 
well-spoken  lady,  and  so  was  the  young  lady  as  lived 
with  her,  who  used  to  go  out  at  times,  so  that  nobody 
would  know  her  if  so  be  as  her  ould  friends  met  her  in 
the  sthreets.  Forby  all  that,  she  was  a  good  young  lady, 
and  it's  my  belief  that  she  too  had  been  deceived  by  some 
vagabone  of  a  man  who  had  taken  her  from  her  home 
and  then  deserted  her,  for  she  was  a  rale  lady,  and  played 
on  the  pianner  like  anything.' 

"  This  was  the  first  intimation  I  had  had  of  the  dis- 
honor of  my  daughter,  and  although  I  bore  up  as  best  I 
could  in  the  presence  of  the  honest,  well-meaning  servant 
girl,  the  blow  struck  to  my  heart, — and  yet  I  hoped  that 
she  might  be  mistaken  : 
,  "  '  Who  is  the  landlord  of  this  house  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Sure  never  a  one  of  me  knows,'  replied  the  young 
woman;  '  whoever  hebe's,  I  heern  the  misthress  say  many 
a  time  as  his  rent  was  payed  up  till  January  next.  I've 
seen  him  here  once  or  twice,  and  I  know  as  he  lives  in 
the  city,  and  that's  all  as  I  knows  about  him.  Howsom- 
ever,  1  shall  stay  here  till  dark,  and  if  so  be  as  they 
doesn't  come  back  or  send  word  afore  then,  I  shall  go 
home  to  my  friends.  I  wouldn't  stay  here  in  this  house, 
all  alone  at  night,  not  for  no  money,  'specially  as  John 
might  come  back  by  himself,  thinking  to  find  me  here.' 

"  '  I  will  go  home — thank  you  for  the  kindness  you  have 
shown  in  allowing  me  to  rest  awhile,  for  I  was  very  tired. 
Perhaps  I  am  mistaken  in  the  house,'  said  I,  as  (scarcely 
knowing  what  I  did)  I  rose  to  depart. 

" '  Perhaps,  if  you'll  inquire  at  the  next  house,  you 
will  find  out  the  person  you  want,'  said  the  young  woman, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  285 

What  is  the  name,  W ?     I  don't  think  any  lady  of 

that  name  lives  near  here.' 

" '  No,'  I  replied  ;  '  I  am  perhaps  mistaken  in  the  name. 
I  will  return  home  now,  and  make  fresh  inquiry,'  and  I 
left  the  house,  and  retraced  my  weary  steps  to  the  city, 
but  I  felt  no  fatigue  of  body  on  my  return  home.  My 
mental  anguish — the  reaction  that  had  taken  place  within 
me — was  too  great.  I  had  gone  forth  to  meet  my  long- 
lost  child — to  clasp  her  to  my  heart,  and  breathe  forgive- 
ness in  her  ear  ere  she  had  time  to  seek  it — to  tell  her 
that  this  happy  meeting  repaid  a  lone  mother's  heart 
for  all  the  hours  and  days  and  weeks,  aye,  years  of  anxi- 
ety it  had  suffered — and  I  had  found  that  the  child  I  had 
sought  had  disappeared  just  at  the  moment  that  I  thought 
the  cup  of  happiness  was  full — the  chalice  had  been  rude- 
ly dashed  from  my  lips  just  as  I  was  about  to  drain  the 
sparkling  draught  fraught  with  the  intoxication  of  a 
mother's  love,  and  the  dregs  as  they  were  spilt  had  been 
poisoned,  by  the  bitter  intelligence  of  my  poor  child's 
dishonor.  Would  to  God  I  had  died  on  the  spot,  and  I 
should  have  been  spared  the  horrors  that  I  have  since 
experienced.  My  poor,  poor  Mary  I  your  fame  was  sul- 
lied, but  your  heart  was  pure  and  guileless  still ;  was  it 
not  enough  that  you  should  become  the  unconscious  vic- 
tim of  the  deceiver  ?  What  mysterious  Providence  ren- 
dered it  necessary  that  you  should  wipe  out  the  stain  of 
the  sin  you  unwittingly  committed,  with  your  innocent 
blood.  A  curse — a  mother's  withering  curse  on  the 
wretch  who  has  destroyed  my  child!" 

Thus  spoke  the  poor  broken  hearted  mother,  and  for 
some  moments  I  allowed  her  to  indulge  her  grief  and  her 
sorrowful  retrospections  unmolested. 

I  was  about  to  question  her  further,  for  as  yet  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  reasons  she  had  conceived  that  her 
daughter  had  perished  by  violence — by  the  ruthless 
hands  of  the  destroyer  of  woman's  peace  of  mind  and 
the  black-hearted  murderer;  but  at  this  moment  she 
again  burst  forth  in  notes  of  lamentation,  indulging  iu 


288  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

a  soliloquy,  and  apparently  unconscious  that  she  had  a 
listener : — 

"  Poor  little  Mary !  she  was  my  own  darling,  fairy 
child.  How  well  I  recollect  every  little  trait  pf  her  in- 
nocent, happy  infancy — ere  her  poor  father  sought  the 
busy,  crowded,  baleful  city — before  misfortune  came 
upon  us — when  we  had  a  little  farm  of  our  own  on  the 
northern  border  of  the  State.  How  her  poor  father  and 
I  would  sit  in  the  evening,  after  the  day's  labors  were 
over,  and  amuse  ourselves  with  watching  her  little  pat- 
tering footsteps  as  she  ran  to  and  fro  amongst  the  grass- 
grown  walks  in  the  garden,  gathering  flowers  and  making 
pretty  little  bouquets  for  us,  and  then,  as  with  childish 
glee  she  presented  them  to  us,  she  would  seek  the  readily 
proffered  kiss  as  her  cheap,  but  fondly  bestowed  reward ; 
and  then,  when  her  father  died,  and  we  removed  to  the 
city,  and  amidst  its  busy  solitude  she  was  all  in  all  to 
me — the  only  tie  that  still  bound  me  to  the  earth,  and 
restrained  the  earnest  desire  that  possessed  me  to  join 
my  dear  husband  in  a  happier  world,  where  sorrow  and 
disappointment  would  be  unknown,  with  what  motherly 
pride  I  watched  her  budding  beauties  unfolding  them- 
selves, and  saw  her  spring  up  from  infancy  to  girlhood, 
and  from  girlhood  to  the  perfection  of  womanly  beauty. 
Ah  me !  I  was  too  proud  of  my  dear  girl's  loveliness, 
and  when,  on  account  of  the  extraordinary  beauty  she 
possessed,  she  was  eagerly  sought  to  accept  a  situation 
in  a  store,  where  her  loveliness  would  attract  customers, 
at  wages  higher  than  were  offered  to  her  associates,  I 
plumed  myself  too  much  on  the  good  looks  and  gentle 
disposition  of  my  child.  Why  did  I  not  keep  her  at 
home  with  me  ?  She  might  still  have  been  living ;  per- 
haps happily  married,  a  comfort  and  a  blessing  to  her 
poor  mother.  Oh!  that  fatal  pride  which  led  me  to 
place  her  in  a  position  so  full  of  temptations  to  a  young 
and  inexperienced  girl  as  was  the  fashionable  confec- 
tioner's to  which  she  doubtless  drew  many  customers 
among  the  young  men — alas,  poor,  dear  girl !  one  too 
many — one  that  led  her  on  to  her  ruin.  Oh,  God  1  I 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  281 

have  been  severely  punished.  Yes,  my  poor  girl — 
spirit  of  my  poor  lost  Mary,  your  mother,  not  you,  was 
to  blame." 

Again  she  sat  motionless  and  absorbed  in  thought,  and 
at  length  I  ventured  to  ask,  by  what  means  she  had 
been  led  to  suspect  that  her  daughter  had  been  murder- 
ed ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  my  own  suspicions  were  that 
she  had  destroyed  herself  and  her  child,  and  I  was  very 
anxious  to  get  some  clue  as  to  the  personality  of  the  in- 
cognita who  had  been  so  frequently  mentioned,  as  the 
companion  of  the  poor,  deceived  young  woman. 

The  old  lady  continued  thus  : — 

"  I  returned  home  in  a  state  of  mind  that  may  be 
better  conceived  than  described,  and  after  a  sleepless 
night  1  determined  to  find  out  the  landlord  of  the 
house  in  which  I  believed  my  daughter  to  have  resided, 
and  to  glean  from  him  what  information  I  could  re- 
specting her  strange  and  sudden,  apparently  unexpected 
departure. 

"  I  easily  found  him  out,  and  I  called  at  his  house, 
but  was  told  that  he  was  not  at  home,  but  had  gone  to 
the  very  house  I  had  visited  the  day  before. 

"  Thither  I  bent  my  steps  and  found  the  gentleman  I 
sought,  engaged  in  closing  the  shutters  .and  locking  up 
the  deserted  dwelling.  He  could  give  me  no  informa- 
tion further  than  that  the  husband,  as  he  believed,  of  the 
lady,  who  had  gone  to  California,  had  paid  him  the  rent 
for  three  months  still  in  advance,  and  that  he  was  igno- 
rant of  the  cause  of  this  mysterious  departure  on  the  part 
of  his  tenants.  Still  he  considered  it  necessary,  for  the 
safety  of  his  property,  that  he  should  retain  the  key 
until  it  was  demanded  by  his  late  tenants,  or  until  the 
term  of  their  occupation  had  expired.  '  Perhaps,'  he 
added,  '  the  gentleman  may  have  returned  from  Califor- 
nia, and  may  have  unexpectedly  sent  for  his  wife  to 
meet  him  somewhere  near  at  hand ;  but  I  wonder  that 
they  gave  me  no  intimation  ;  I  received  none  until  the 
visit  of  the  servant  girl  last  night,  who  told  me  that  her 


288  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

mistress  had  left  the  house  with  her  baby  and  a  young 
lady  who  lived  with  her.' 

"  '  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  gentleman  who  hired 
the  house  of  you  ?'  I  inquired ;  '  or  of  the  young  ladj 
who  you  say  resided  with  his  wife?' 

"  '1  do  not,'  he  replied.  '  He  gave  me  a  name  when 
he  left  the  house,  which  on  inquiry  I  found  was  a  false 
one,  as  I  called  upon  a  gentleman  of  the  name  who  he  said 
was  a  relative  of  his,  who  asserts  that  he  knows  nothing 
of  him.  I  do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  give  you  this 
name,  unless  you  can  give  me  satisfactory  reasons  for 
demanding  it  of  me,  as  it  is  that  of  a  gentleman  weli 
known  as  an  eminent  merchant  of  the  city,  and  what- 
ever be  the  upshot  of  this  affair,  he  may  not  be  pleased 
at  having  his  name  mixed  up  with  it.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  the  gentleman  and  lady  who  took  the 
house  were  really  married  T  I  asked. 

"  The  landlord  looked  at  me  curiously,  as  though  en- 
deavoring to  ascertain  my  motives  for  asking  such  a  sin- 
gular question.  At  length  he  replied  : 

"'I  have  had  no  reason  to  suspect  otherwise;  but  I 
made  no  inquiry.  I  was  paid  the  rent  in  advance,  and 
I  received  good  nominal  references,  although  they  proved 
to  be  false ;  but  under  the  circumstances  in  which  the 
house  was  taken,  I  was  not  very  particular  in  making 
inquiry.  I  seldom  do  unless  I  have  some  suspicions  of 
the  integrity  of  the  applicant.' 

"  I  wished  the  gentleman  good  morning,  and  left  him. 
A  ray  of  hope  had  beamed  upon  me  during  the  course 
of  the  conversation.  '  He  did  not  know  that  his  tenants 
were  unmarried,' — perhaps  the  servant  girl  had  told  me 
false — all  might  come  out  right  in  the  end.  Perhaps  the 
husband,  had  really  returned,  and  might  not  be  any 
longer  unwilling  that  his  wife  should  renew  those  inti- 
mate communications  with  her  mother  which  had  so  long 
been  interrupted,  and  with  this  hope  I  felt  my  peace  of 
mind  considerably  restored ;  although  I  still  remained  in 
a  state  of  great  mental  anxiety,  as  day  by  day  I  waited 


STRAY   LEAVES  FEOM   MY  JOURNAL.  289 

in  the  expectation  of  being  again  summoned  to  meet  my 
child. 

"  Thus  several  months  passed  away,  until  my  heart 
grew  sick  with  anxious  hope  long  deferred,  and  at  length 
1  gave  myself  up  almost  to  despair. 

"  A  day  or  two  since,  I  received  a  letter  in  an  unknown, 
hand ;  the  same  as  that  of  the  letter  you  have  already 
read.  It  contained  but  a  line  or  two ;  it  is  here,"  she 
continued,  as  she  took  it  from  her  pocket-book  ancj  read 
it:— 

''  '  She  who  wrote  you  before,  bidding  you  not  to  be 
anxious  respecting  your  long-lost  daughter,  now  writes 

to  bid  you  seek  out  Dr. ,  of  this  city.  He  attended 

your  daughter  in  her  confinement,  and  he  will  aid  you, 
I  hope,  in  bringing  to  Jght  a  deed  of  mystery  and  dark- 
ness— of  blood  and  crime — that  has  too  long  lain  hidden 
from  the  world.  I  am  watched  and  am  closely  confined 
in  a  private  lunatic  asylum ;  but  God  knows  I  am  not 
mad,  though  my  tormentors  would  fain  drive  me  so. 
My  only  wonder  is,  that  I  was  not  murdered  by  the 
same  demons  in  human  form  who  murdered  your  daugh- 
ter and  her  innocent  babe.  The  wealth  and  respectability! 
of  him  who  was  the  author  and  abettor,  if  not  the  actual 
committer  of  this  dreadful  double  murder,  alone  saved 
him  from  punishment  for  a  crime  which  should  have  sent 
him  to  States  Prison.  Had  the  law  pursued  its  course, 
and  justice  been  meted  where  justice  was  due — the  vil- 
lain would  have  been  prevented  from  the  committal  of 
the  more  deadly  crime.  Long  have  I  sought  an  oppor- 
tunity to  write  to  you,  but  this  is  the  first  time,  after 
many  months'  watching,  that  I  have  had  an  opportunity 
pf  sending  a  letter.  I  dispatch  it  to  the  post  by  a  child 
whom  I  have  bribed,  from  the  garden  which  I  have  been 
allowed  to  walk  in  for  an  hour  every  day,  in  consequence 
of  the  bad  state  of  my  health.  The  garden  is  closely 
barred,  but  my  keeper  is  temporarily  absent — she  goes 
to  meet  her  lover — taking  this  opportunity,  while  I  am 
abroad,  to  meet  him  in  a  secluded  part  of  the  garden.  I 
noticed  this  a  day  or  two  ago,  and  last  night  I  wrote  this 

13 


290  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

letter,  for  I  am  allowed  pens  and  ink  to  amuse  myself 
with.  Be  cautious — a  false  step  may  be  irretrievable. 
Should  it  be  known  that  I  wrote  this  letter,  my  life  might 

fay  the  forfeit.  I  know  not  in  what  part  of  the  country 
am  confined.' 

"  There  is  no  signature  to  the  letter,"  said  the  poor 
woman,  when,  amidst  many  sobs,  she  had  finished  read- 
ing it. 

"  It  is  this  letter  I  had  meant  to  have  shown  you  first, 
when  I  left  home,  but  I  thought  I  would  tell  you,  as  it 
occurred,  all  that  I  know  of  the  sad  story." 

"  This  is  strange  intelligence,  indeed !"  said  I,  "  and 
most  startling  in  its  nature.  I  am  aware  that  the  most 
unheard-of  barbarities  have  occurred,  and  do  still  occui 
in  lunatic  asylums,  especially  in  some  of  those  called 
private  ones,  but  which  are  really  only  receptacles  for 
such  persons  as  it  might  be  prejudicial  to  certain  villain- 
ous schemes  to  allow  to  be  abroad  and  at  liberty ;  but  if 
this  be  not  "the  mere  raving  of  a  lunatic,  it  is  horrible  to 
contemplate.  Let  me  see  the  post-mark,"  I  said,  "  possibly 
by  that  means  we  may  gain  some  clue  to  the  mystery." 

I  took  the  letter  in  my  hand,  and  examined  it.  It 
apparently  bore  two  post-marks,  one  of  which  had  so 
blurred  the  other,  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  make 
out  either. .  One,  however,  with  much  difficulty  I  made 
out  to  be  'Maryland  State,  though  I  could  not  tell  the 
name  of  the  town ;  the  other,  with  all  my  ingenuity,  I 
could  not  decipher. 

"  I  will  look  to  this,"  said  I,  as  I  returned  the  letter  to 
the  poor  woman  ;  "  rest  assured  I  will  do  what  I  can  to 
bring  to  light  this  dark  villainy;  for,  that  villainy  \u\s 
been  committed  I  am  confident.  But  I  must  think  how 
to  set  about  its  discovery.  Will  you  call  upon  me  in  a 
day  or  two — say  the  day  after  to-morrow?" 

"  I  will,"  replied  the  poor  lady;  and  as  she  was  rising 
to  quit  the  apartment,  she  said : 

"  Perhaps  you  will  deem  it  foolish,  and  the  mere  con- 
juration of  a  diseased  fancy,  created  in  my  mind  by 
brooding  over  that  dreadful  letter ;  but  last  night  after  I 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  291 

had  gone  to  my  bed,  where,  for  a  long  time,  I  lay  weep- 
ing bitterly,  I  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  my  daughter 
called  me.  I  answered  her  call,  and  as  I  thought,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  spot  whence  the  sound  of  her  voice  pro- 
ceeded ;  but  she  was  not  there.  I  wandered  on  until  a 
broad  river  rolled  before  me — its  banks  half  hidden  by 
a  fog,  and  while  I  was  waiting  a  reply  to  my  repeated 
calls  on  my  daughter,  the  body  of  an  infant  was  cast  on 
shore,  and  the  voice  again  spoke.  It  said :  '  mother — see, 
here  is  my  child.  He  was  murdered !  but  his  mother 
was  not  his  murderess,  though  such  the  wretches  would 
have  the  world  believe.  By  and  by  1  will  appear  to  con- 
front the  murderer.  The  voice  seemed  still  to  continue 
to  speak,  but  I  could  not  hear ;  for  the  winds  roared,  and 
the  waves  increased,  and  the  fog  was  blown  away,  and 
the  child  was  cast  high  up  on  the  banks  and  borne  away 
from  me,  as  I  sought  to  clutch  it,  by  some  strange  men 
who  stood  by,  and  I  shrieked  in  my  sleep  until  the 
sound  of  my  own  voice  awakened  me,  and  I  found  I  had 
been  dreaming  a  frightful  dream." 

_  ''  The  horrible  vision  was  doubtless  conjured  up  as  you 
say,  in  consequence  of  your  having  brooded  so  long  over 
the  letter  you  received,"  said  I,  unwilling  to  alarm  the 
poor  woman  by  informing  her  of  my  suspicion  that  the- 
dead  body  of  her  infant  grandchild  had  actually  been 
cast  up  from  the  river,  as  she  had  seen  in  her  dream. 
"  It  is  strange,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "  very  strange,"  and 
as  I  wished  the  poor  lady  good  day,  and  accompanied 
her  to  the  door,  I  repeated — 

"  Be  sure  and  let  me  see  you  the  day  after  to-morrow." 


292  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 


CHAPTEK    XXIII. 

I  HAD  requested  Mrs.  W to  call  at  the  early 

period  I  mentioned  after  her  first  visit,  in  the  hope  that 
in  the  meantime  I  might  think  of  some  method  of  pro- 
ceeding, whereby  I  might  hope  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
in  which  this  affair  seemed  to  be  involved  ;  but  although 
I  taxed  my  ingenuity  to  the  utmost,  I  could  conceive  of 
nothing  that  appeared  any  way  feasible,  and  I  was  fain 
to  let  matters  rest  until  I  again  saw  J-he  old  lady. 

On  the  appointed  day,  she  came  punctual  to  the  hour, 
and  for  sometime  we  conversed  together  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  without  arriving  at  any  satisfactory  conclusion. 

"  You  have,  then,  no  idea,"  said  I,  "  who  the  young 
man  was  who  gained  your  daughter's  affections,  and  so 
cruelly  deceived  her  ?" 

"  No  idea  at  all,  doctor ;  for,  although  before  I  lost 
sight  of  my  poor  girl  altogether,  I  had  remarked  that 
her  visits  to  me  were  less  frequent,  and  her  manner 
was  reserved;  whereas,  until  that  period,  she  had  made 
me  her  confidant,  even  as  regarded  the  most  trivial  mat- 
ters, yet  she  never  told  me  the  cause  that  led  to  the  urifre- 
quency  and  brevity  of  her  visits ;  nor,  although  more 
than  once  I  pressed  her  to  tell  me  what  it  was  that 
seemed  to  weigh  upon  her  spirits,  could  I  get  any  infor- 
mation from  her.  She  answered  me  evasively — said  that 
nothing  was  the  matter,  and  stopped  all  further  inquiry 
by  kissing  me ;  but  I  plainly  saw  that  her  mind  was  dis- 
turbed, for  she  had  always  been  of  a  cheerful,  equable 
temperament,  and  now,  she  was  alternately  moody  and 
silent,  or  else  she  would  be  seized  with  a  fit  of  boisterous 
merriment  altogether  foreign  to  her  nature." 

"  I  would  write  to  some  of  my  friends,  and  ask  them 
to  join  me  in  endeavoring  to  discover  if  a  person  answer- 
ing to  the  writer  of  that  letter  was  confined  in  any  of  the 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  293 

lunatic  asylums  in  the  country,"  said  I,  musingly,  "  but 
the  writer  says  she  is  in  a  private  asylum,  and  therefore  it 
is  impossible  to  say  where  she  may  be,  or  whether  the 
place  be  known  as  a  lunatic  asylum  at  all ;  besides,  I 
could  give  no  description  of  her  that  would  lead  to  her 
identification,  for  I  never  saw  her  features,  and  her  figure, 
though  slender  and  girlish,  would  apply  to  thousands  of 
young  persons  of  her  apparent  age." 

"  Then  you  think,  doctor,  that  it  is  impossible  to  dis- 
cover anything  relative  to  the  fate  of  my  poor  child  ?" 
said  the  poor  woman,  appealingly.  "  Her  strange  disap- 
pearance— her  murder,  as  I  believe — must  ever  remain  a 
mystery,  and  this  poor  creature,  whoever  she  be,  who  ia 
wearing  out  her  life  in  the  horrid  confinement  of  a  luna- 
tic asylum,  must  there  remain  until  she  sinks  broken- 
hearted, and,  as  she  will  believe,  forsaken  of  humanity, 
into  her  grave." 

"  Nay,  not  so,  my  dear  madam ;"  I  replied,  although 
I  certainly  saw  no  prospect  at  present  of  penetrating  the 
dark  secret.  But  I  was  unwilling  to  consign  the  poor 
woman  to  despair.  "  Not  so ;  although  at  present  all 
seems  hidden  in  mystery  impenetrable,  something  may 
turn  up  that  will  furnish  us  with  a  clue  that  will  lead  to 
the  unravelling  of  the  whole  web  of  iniquity  and  crime 
that  has  evidently  been  woven,  the  more  especially,  as 
we  shall  both  be  on  the  watch  for  it.  Rest  assured,  that 
although  at  present  all  seems  dark  and  hopeless,  it  will 
not  be  permitted  to  remain  so.  Crime  of  such  a  nature 
as  this  may  conceal  itself  for  a  time  ;  but  it  is  sure,  event- 
ually, to  be  brought  to  light,  and  the  perpetrators  rarely, 
if  ever,  escape  punishment,  even  in  this  world.  You, 
madam,  use  your  endeavor  to  trace  out  some  evidence 
which  may  throw  light  upon  the  matter,  and  be  sure  that 
in  me  you  will  find  a  faithful  coadjutor.  I  am  so  much 
interested  in  the  fate  of  my  unfortunate  patient  and  her 
former  companion,  that  I  shall  be  uneasy  until  I  have 
succeeded  in  discovering  and  investigating  the  mystery 
that  enshrouds  their  fate." 

Sadly  cast  down,  the  poor  lady  left  me ;  and,  although 


294  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

I  managed  to  see  her  frequently,  for  some  months  after 
this  nothing  occurred  to  afford  us  any  hope. 

It  might  have  been  three  months  after  the  first  visit  of 

Mrs.  W to  my  house,  that  I  paid  a  short  visit  to 

Saratoga,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  my  wife,  who  always 
had  a  fancy  that  the  mineral  waters  agreed  with  her.  It 
was  at  a  season  of  the  year  in  which  tbis  celebrated  and 
beautiful  village  is  full  of  company,  and  every  hotel  was 
crowded  to  excess,  as  well  as  the  private  boarding- 
houses.  It  was  with  difficulty  we  procured  lodgings, 
but  we  at  length  succeeded  in  doing  so  at  the Hotel. 

Among  the  hundreds  of  boarders  at  this  hotel,  there 
were  to  be  found  residents  of  every  part  of  the  Union, 
and  many,  of  course,  were  utter  strangers  to  each  other. 
In  fact,  amongst  the  incongruous  assemblages  that  meet 
at  mineral  springs  and  watering-places,  although  there 
are  certain  ultra  fashionable  and  exclusive  cliques,  the 
principal  letter  of  introduction  is  wealth;  and  if  a  visi- 
tor has  money,  dresses  well,  and  carries  a  haughty  head, 
he  passes  muster,  and  is  even  sought  for  and  flattered, 
although  his  antecedents  be  utterly  ignored  by  all  with 
whom  he  mingles.  A  foreign  soi  disant  count,  with  an 
unpronounceable  German  or  Polish  name,  and  a  rent-roll 
in  the  moon,  or  some  other  equally  available  spot,  so 
long  as  the  proceeds  of  his  last  gambling  speculations 
are  expended  freely,  and  his  coats,  vests,  pants,  boots, 
and  moustaches,  are  unimpeachable,  is  almost  as  great  a 
man  as  the  acknowledged  millionaire,  and  stands  pretty 
nearly  as  good  a  chance,  if  such  be  his  aim,  of  running 
off  with  the  heart  of  some  romantic  girl,  who  is  too  deli- 
cate and  refined  to  become  the  wife  of  a  plain,  honest, 
and  independent  countryman  of  her  own. 

However,  this  is  digression,  and  yet  not  altogether  so. 
For  it  will  serve  to  introduce  to  the  reader  some  parties 
whom  I  met  at  Saratoga  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit,  the 
meeting  with  whom  eventually  led  to  the  clearing  up  of 
at  least  a  considerable  portion  of  the  mystery  in  the  in- 
vestigation of  which,  I  and  poor  Mrs.  W were  so 

deeply  interested.  Among  the  boarders  at  the Ho- 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  295 

tel,  there  were  a  gentleman  and  lady  who  attracted  a 
great  deal  of  attention  on  account  of  their  dashing  style, 
and  the  liberality,  nay,  the  perfect  recklessness  with 
which  they  spent  their  money.  The  gentleman  had  the 
appearance  of  a  foreigner — for  his  complexion,  hair  and 
eyes,  were  dark  as  those  of  a  Spaniard,  and  he  wore  a 
thick  and  heavy  moustache ;  but  his  unimpeachable  ac- 
cent told  that  he  was  an  American.  The  dark  tan  of 
his  cheek  might  have  been  caused  by  exposure  to  tropi- 
cal suns,  and  the  rather  un-American  jetty  blackness  of 
his  hair,  eye-brows,  whiskers  and  moustache  might  proba- 
bly, had  the  truth  been  known,  have  attested  to  the  mar- 
velous superiority  of  the  hair-dye  that  he  patronized.  He 
was  still  young ;  or  at  least  not  past  the  meridian  of  life. 
He  certainly  could  not  have  been  more  than  forty  years 
of  age,  and  notwithstanding  a  certain  blase  air,  the  result 
probably  of  youthful  debauchery,  he  was  still  handsome. 
The  lady  who  accompanied  him,  and  who  was  set  down 
on  the  hotel  books  as  his  wife,  was  considerably  younger; 
perhaps  about  thirty  years  of  age.  She  was  passably 
good-looking,  and  as  elegant  in  her  manners  and  deport- 
ment as  she  was  fashionable  in  her  attire.  I  met  them 
frequently  walking  out  together  in  the  gardens,  and  the 
lanes  adjacent  to  the  village ;  but  it  was  some  weeks  after 
I  had  first  observed  them,  before  I  came  sufficiently  into 
contact  with  them  to  speak  to  them. 

At  length  we  met  at  a  pic-nic  party,  to  which  some 
twenty  persons,  one  half  of  them  strangers  to  each  other, 
had  been  invited;  for  the  projectors  of  the  party  had 
each  invited  their  own  friends.  In  the  course  of  the  af- 
ternoon, it  fell  to  my  lot  to  take  charge  of  the  lady — her 
husband  having  joined  a  party  who  had  gone  into  a 
neighboring  wood,  to  try  if  they  could  not  hit  upon  some 
game  that  would  find  work  for  the  fowling-pieces  they 
had  brought  with  them.  Not  being  much  of  a  sporting- 
man  myself,  I  had  declined  joining  the  party  of  gentle- 
men, and  with  two  or  three  others,  the  elders  of  tbo 
party,  I  staid  behind,  to  lo'ok  after  the  ladies. 

The  lady  was  very  chatty  and  agreeable,  and  she  and 


296  THE   OLD   DOCTOR  ;'  OK, 

my  wife  were  soon  upon  intimate  terms.  During  the 
course  of  a  spirited  conversation,  the  lady  drew  off  her 
glove,  and  to  my  astonishment — I  may  say,  to  my 
dismay,  the  identical  rings  sparkled  before  rny  eyes  that 
I  had  remarked  as  having  been  worn  by  the  incognita. 

I  actually  started  as  if  stung  by  an  adder,  and  quite 
alarmed  the  ladies,  who  asked  the  reason  of  my  conster- 
nation. I  made  some  frivolous  excuse  that  satisfied  them  ; 
but  I  could  not  withdraw  my  eyes  from  the  rings.  Was 
it  possible  that  I  was  mistaken  ?  No,  it  could  not  be. 
There  was  the  brilliant  amethyst  and  diamond  ring,  and 
there  were  the  garnet  and  pearl-rings.  It  was  almost 
impossible  that  two  persons  should  wear  such  costly  rings 
of  so  exactly  similar  a  pattern ;  and  yet,  setting  aside  the 
rings  on  her  fingers,  there  was  nothing  in  the  figure  or 
appearance  of  the  wearer,  which  would  have  led  me  to 
believe  that  she  and  the  incognita  were  one  and  the  same 
person.  She  was  taller,  older,  and  her  voice  was  entirely 
different.  Besides,  had  not  I  learnt,  only  a  month  or  two 
before,  that  the  unfortunate  and  mysterious  companion 
of  my  late  interesting  patient  was  confined  in  a  lunatic 
asylum?  Whence  then  came  those  rings?  Was  the 
lady  who  wore  them,  cognizant  of  the  whereabouts  of 
her  whose  fair  hand  they  had  once  adorned  ?  Did  she 
know  of  her  cruel  fate  ?  Nay,  more — was  not  she,  per- 
haps, her  heartless  persecutor?  All  these  questions  I 
asked  myself,  and  then  the  thought  would  intrude,  that 
it  was  barely  possible  there  might  be  two  sets  of  rings 
exactly  similar,  and  that  one  set  might  have  been  pur- 
chased by  or  presented  to  my  new  acquaintance. 

How  to  glean  any  further  information  ;  how  to  satisfy 
myself  whether  or  not  my  suspicions  were  correct,  I  knew 
not.  To  ask  the  lady  how  she  came  by  the  rings  she 
wore,  would  have  been  a  gross  insult.  They  might  have 
been  presented  her  by  her  husband ;  for,  in  addition  to 
the  rings  I  have  mentioned,  she  wore  on  the  third  finger 
of  her  left  hand,  the  golden  symbol  of  matrimony.  I 
kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  her  person  in  a  manner  that, 
had  she  observed  it,  would  have  certainly  given  offence ; 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  297 

but  she  was  so  busily  engaged  in  eager  conversation  with 
the  other  ladies,  that  she  did  not  notice  my  rudeness. 

The  weather  was  warm,  and  the  little  party  sat  them- 
selves down  to  rest  beneath  the  shade  of  a  group  of 
trees.  In  setting  down,  a  light  crape  shawl  that  the  lady 
wore,  was  caught  by  a  bramble  and  torn  from  her  shoul- 
ders. I  hastened  to  replace  it,  and  in  so  doing,  I  per- 
ceived the  edge  of  a  locket  attached  by  a  blue  riband, 
resting  in  her  bosom,  the  workmanship  of  which  exactly 
resembled  the  locket  I  have  already  mentioned  as  being 
among  the  ornaments  worn  by  the  incognita. 

This,  in  my  opinion,  was  confirmation,  and  I  could  not 
refrain  from  observing,  after  having  performed  the  tri- 
fling service  mentioned — 

"Those  are  remarkably  beautiful  rings  you  wear, 
madam.  They  bring  former  days  to  my  recollection. — 
A  lady  of  my  acquaintance  at  one  time  wore  a  set  that 
were  exactly  their  counterpart." 

I  watched  keenly  the  countenance  of  the  lady  as  I  eaid 
this,  and  I  thought  she  gave  me  a  look  which  sought  to 
discover  whether  I  had  any  particular  reason  for  making 
the  remark,  or  whether  I  had  merely  made  it  by  acci- 
dent, being  actually  pleased  with  the  beauty  of  the  rings. 
However,  I  might  have  been  mistaken  as  regarded  this 
scrutiny  on  her  part — for  she  merely  quietly  remarked : 

"  Yes,  they  were  the  wedding  gift  of  my  husband,  to- 
gether with  a  locket  of  a  beautiful  and  quaint  workman- 
ship, which  I  have  now  round  my  neck.  They  have  of- 
ten drawn  the  attention  of  strangers.  They  are  very 
valuable,  and  as  most  people  think,  exceedingly  pretty." 
So  saying,  she  took  the  locket  from  her  bosom  and 
showed  it  to  the  ladies  seated  beside  her. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  I  thought  to  myself.  "I  suspect  that 
the  young  lady  has  sold  these  jewels,  and  that  they  have 
been  purchased  by  the  husband  of  their  present  pos- 
sessor; nevertheless,  I  should  much  like  to  know  who 
they  are." 

To  ascertain  this  I  made  frequent,  but  apparently 
careless  inquiry  of  various  persons  whom  I  knew,  who 

13* 


298  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

lived  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  thinking  that 
some  among  them  might  at  least  have  a  passing  acquaint- 
ance with  the  strangers,  but  the  answer  to  my  questions 
was  almost  invariably — 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  who  they  are,  but  they  appear  to 
be  very  wealthy,  and  are  at  any  rate  a  very  agreeable 
couple,  willing  tb  join  in  any  project  to  make  the  time 
pass  pleasantly." 

I  took  occasion  to  glance  my  eye  over  the  hotel  book 
for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  my  curiosity  as  to  where  the 
parties  came  from.  Opposite  their  names,  I  saw  New 
York ;  but  this  might  mean  the  city  or  the  state  alike, 
and  it  might  have  no  meaning,  for  I  well  knew  that  this 
custom  of  writing  the  residence  of  hotel  visitors  was  a 
mere  form,  and  that  any  place  of  residence  might  be 
written  that  the  parties  fancied. 

Once  or  twice  after  this,  I  essayed  to  introduce  some 
remarks  leading  to  the  subject  of  the  mysterious  disap- 
pearance of  my  late  patient,  and  touching  the  treatment 
experienced  in  lunatic  asylums,  in  order  that  I  might 
notice  whether  the  conversation  caused  any  embarrass- 
ment to  the  lady ;  but  I  never  could  observe  that  she  be- 
trayed any  consciousness  of  my  object,  and  respecting 
lunatic  asylums  and  the  cruel  treatment  sometimes  there- 
in inflicted  upon  the  unhappy  patients,  she  once  or  twice 
volunteered  a  history  of  the  treatment  of  a  relative  of 
hers  (who  had  been  placed  in  a  private  asylum  by  her 
husband,  as  was  supposed,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
possession  of  certain  property  of  her  own),  who  had  been 
driven  really  mad  through  the  cruelties  she  had  ex- 
perienced, and  had  died  in  the  course  of  twelve  months 
from  the  date  of  her  incarceration  in  the  infamous  den. 

A  few  weeks  more  passed  away,  and  I  was  upon  the 
point  of  returning  to  New  York  with  my  wife,  when 
the  gentleman  and  lady  I  have  described  as  having 
created  some  suspicions  relative  to  their  knowledge  of 
the  matter  I  was  so  anxious  to  investigate,  suddenly  and 
quite  unexpectedly  took  their  departure.  I  say  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly,  because  they  had  promised  to  attend 


STRAY  LEAVES  FRO*    MY  JOURNAL.  299 

a  ball  that  was  to  be  given  at  ;he  hotel  on  the  following 
week,  and  the  lady  had  already  greatly  interested  her 
self  in  the  proceedings,  and  was.  indeed,  one  of  the  lady 
patronesses. 

Of  course,  the  sudden  departure  of  so  fashionable  a 
couple  before  the  close  of  the  season,  led  to  a  variety  of 
surmises  and  to  many  reports.  It  was  said  that  the 
gentleman  had  received  a  letter  in  the  morning — and 
those  who  were  seated  near  him  in  the  reading-room, 
noticed  that  he  turned  very  pale  on  perusing  it,  and  then 
he  immediately  sought  his  wife's  chamber,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours  they  were  on  their  journey ;  it 
was  presumed,  from  the  address  that  had  been  noticed, 
by  some  curious  persons  on  the  baggage,  that  their  desti- 
nation was  Baltimore. 

I  returned  to  New  York,  and  although  somehow  or 
other  I  could  not  get  quit  of  the  suspicions  that  had  been 
aroused  within  me  that  those  persons  knew  more  respect- 
ing the  unfortunate  fate  of  my  patient  and  her  unknown 
companion  than  they  chose  to  tell,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
weeks  I  had  well  nigh  forgotten  them ;  when  they  were 
recalled  to  my  recollection  in  the  following  manner : 

I  met  a  friend  and  fellow-practitioner  at  the  Irving 
House,  who  had  recently  arrived  from  Louisiana,  of  which 
State  he  was  a  resident,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  I  in- 
vited him  to  dine  at  my  house. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  after  dinner,  I  mentioned 
that  my  wife  and  I  had  been  spending  a  few  weeks  of 
the  summer  at  Saratoga  ! 

" Indeed !"  said  he ;  "I  never  was  there,  but  from  all 
I  have  heard,  it  must  be  a  very  agreeable  place.  By- 
the-bye — that  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  strange  incident. 
You  must  have  been  at  Saratoga,  at  the  time  that 

the  wealthy  and  fashionable  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S were 

there  ?" 

"  There  were  a  gentleman  and  lady  of  that  name 
stopping  at  the  same  hotel  with  us,"  I  replied.  "  They 
left  rather  hurriedly  some  weeks  before  the  close  of  the 
season,  and  about  a  fortnight  before  I  did,  although  I 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

believe  it  was  generally  thought  that  they  had  made  ar 
rangements  to  stay  several  weeks  longer." 

"  Ah  !  they  left  in  a  hurry,  did  they  ?"  said  my  friend. 
"No  doubt  they  did;  but  their  hurry  happily,  not  for 
themselves  but  for  others,  did  not  much  avail  them  ;  for 
they  were  arrested  in  Maryland,  and  conveyed  to  Galves- 
ton,  where  the  gentleman  is  held  to  answer  for  various 
crimes  of  the  greatest  magnitude — theft,  and  it  is  said, 
murder  are  among  the  list.  Why,  my  dear  sir,  the  fellow, 

whose  name  is  no  more  S than  mine  is,  is  a  villain 

of  the  first  water  and  the  lady  is  reported  to  be  little 
better  than  his  paramour." 

"His  paramour!"  said  I;  "  why  they  passed  as  man 
and  wife  at  Saratoga,  and  were  universally  received  as 
such." 

"  And  they  passed  for  wealthy  fashionables,  and  there- 
fore, of  course,  highly  respectable  people,  did  they  not  ? 
Well,  they  were  neither.  One  is  as  bad  by  all  accounts 
as  the  other,  and  a  pair  of  more  finished  rogues,  though 
I  am  loth  to  apply  the  term  to  a  female,  were  never  al- 
lowed to  remain  unhung." 

"  Then  my  suspicions  were  not  without  cause,"  said  I ; 
"  pray,  may  I  ask  how  you  came  to  know  anything  of 
the  matter?" 

"  How  I  came  to  know  anything  of  the  matter  !  My 
good  fellow,  I  am  lately  from  the  south-west,  and  there 
the  affair  is  in  everybody's  mouth.  The  scoundrel  is 
from  California,  though  1  believe  he  is  a  native  of  New 
York  ;  but  he  was  an  early  emigrant  to  the  golden  land, 
and  there  became  acquainted  with  others  of  like  calibre 
with  himself,  and  together  they  form  one  of  the  most 
infamous  gangs  that  the  newly  settled  territory  has  pro- 
duced— and  it  has  not  been  wanting  in  daring  villains. 
By  every  kind  of  fraudulent  means,  they  have  amassed  a 
considerable  sum  of  money,  and  have  managed,  if  not 
to  avoid  suspicion,  at  least  to  avoid  the  punishment  due 

to  their  crimes.     This  man,  whose  real  name  is  P , 

nowever,  it  is  said,  murdered  a  man  somewhere  in  the 
diggings,  and  afterwards  plundered  him  of  all  his  ae- 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  801 

cumulated  hoard.  The  deed  was  done  without  his  usual 
caution,  and  he  found  it  advisable,  to  escape  Judge 
Lynch,  to  quit  California  under  an  assumed  name  about 
twelve  months  ago,  bringing  with  him  a  considerable 
amount  of  money.  The  friends  of  the  murdered  man, 
who  live  in  Texas,  tracked  him  with  considerable  dif- 
ficulty, and  after  considerable  time  had  been  expended, 
they  learned  that  he  had  taken  up  with  an  infamous  wo- 
man, it  is  said,  of  great  personal  attractions  and  of  good 
education — one  of  those  unfortunates,  who  have  fallen 
from  their  high  estate,  and  plunged  into  the  lowest 
depths  of  moral  degradation — and  had  proceeded  north- 
ward ;  and  they  at>  length  found  that  he  was  cutting  a 
considerable  figure  with  his  reputed  wife  at  Saratoga. 
Thither  they  went  quietly,  and  without  making  known 
their  intentions,  for  they  knew  the  wily,  cunning  charac- 
ter of  the  man  they  had  to  deal  with  :  but  they  found 
the  bird  flown.  It  appears  that  he  must  have  some  ac- 
complices near  at  hand,  for  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
New  York  the  day  before  the  friends  of  his  murdered 
victim  arrived,  and  it  is  thought  that  it  contained  in- 
formation of  the  pursuit  that  was  being  made  after  him, 
for  he  left  Saratoga  immediately,  and  travelled  south- 
ward, it  is  believed,  with  the  intention  of  reaching  New 
Orleans  incognito,  and  thence  proceeding  to  the  Spanish, 
main,  where  he  would  likely  have  etfectually  eludea 
pursuit.  He  did  not  dare  to  stop  at  New  York  or  Phi- 
ladelphia, for  fear  that  his  description  might  have  been 
given  to  the  police,  and  he  might  have  been  arrested. 
However,  he  had  run  the  length  of  his  tether,  and  was 
arrested  somewhere  in  Maryland,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
conveyed  to  Texas  to  answer  the  charge  against  him, 
and  there  before  long  he  will  pay  the  penalty  of  his 
misdeeds." 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  known  the  character  of  the  man  while 
he  was  at  Saratoga,"  said  I,  groaning  in  agony  of  spirit 
that  I  should  have  allowed  the  chance  to  escape  me ;  and 
then  I  related  to  my  friend  the  narrative  of  my  poor  de- 
'uded  patient  and  her  companion,  and  told  him  my  sus- 


802  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

picions  of  their  fate,  as  also  the  fact  of  my  having  wit- 
nessed on  the  person  of  the  female  at  Saratoga,  the  jew 
els  that  had  been  worn  by  the  incognita. 

"Pity,  indeed,"  said  he,  "that  you  could  not  have 
made  more  pertinent  inquiry  respecting  the  way  the  jew- 
els came  into  the  female's  possession  ;  and  yet  I  don't  see 
how  you  could  have  done  so,  under  the  circumstances. 
The  fate  of  the  poor  girl,  who  wrote  the  affecting  letter 
you  speak  of,  may  rest  upon  those  very  jewels ;  and  yet 
there  is  one  way  by  which  you  may,  perhaps,  now  be 
enabled  to  extort  confession  :  that  is,  to  see  the  woman 
who  is  in  jail  at  Galveston,  and  by  persuasion  and  threats, 
manage  to  get  the  information  you  require.  I  do  not 
know  that  there  is  any  charge  hanging  over  the  woman, 
further  than  that  she  may  be  an  accomplice  of  the  fellow 
in  his  villainy,  and  this  has  to  be  proved.  Perhaps,  by 
promising,  if  she  tells  all,  to  use  your  influence  to  get  her 
clear,  you  may  learn  all  you  wish  to  know." 

"  And  that  will  involve  a  journey  to  Texas,"  said  I; 
"  a  serious  matter  at  my  time  of  life." 

"  It  is  a  long  journey  to  take  on  a  mere  chance  specu- 
lation," said  my  friend  ;  "  but  you  have  interested  me  in 
this  matter,  and  if  you  will  allow  me  to  act  in  your  place, 
I  will  see  what  I  can  do.  I  return  to  New  Orleans  next 
week,  and  I  do  not  care  if  I  proceed  to  Texas  from  thence. 
I  have  never  been  there,  and  I  confess  to  a  strange  desire 
to  see  that  half  savage  State.  What  say  you  ?  Am  I  at 
iberty  to  act?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  I  replied;  "and  I  sincerely  thank 
you,  for  I  am  so  much  interested  in  the  matter — nay,  I 
consider  myself  so  far  in  duty  bound  to  investigate  it  to 
the  utmost — that  I  should  have  considered  it  my  dut}^  to 
have  gone  to  Texas  myself,  had  you  not  made  the  offer." 

"Well,  then,  depend  upon  me,"  said  he.  "But  if  I 
were  you,  I  think  I  would  not  let  the  old  lady  know  any- 
thing about  this  fresh  intelligence,  until  we  see  what 
comes  of  it." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  do  so,"  I  replied,  and  here  for  the 
present  the  conversation  dropped. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  803 

My  friend  started  at  the  appointed  time  for  New  Or- 
leans, and,  as  I  wished  him  good  bye,  I  impressed  upon 
his  memory  the  promise  he  had  given  me,  to  see  the  fe- 
male prisoner,  and  endeavor  to  get  all  the  information  he 
could  from  her,  and  even  to  be  liberal  in  his  offers  of  ser- 
vice and  promises  of  reward,  if  he  thought  they  would 
be  of  service. 

"  Trust  to  me,"  he  said,  as  he  went  on  board  the  steamer, 
"  I  have  made  the  case  my  own." 

About  six  weeks  after  this  I  received  a  letter  from  my 
friend,  which  informed  me  that  on  reaching  New  Orleans, 
he  had  lost  no  time  in  proceeding  thence  to  Galveston, 
where  he  had  obtained  admission  to  the  female  prisoner, 
who  appeared,  the  letter  stated,  to  be  very  much  cast 
down.  After  some  conversation  with  her  (in  the  course 
of  which  she  sought  to  throw  the  whole  blame  on  the 
male  prisoner,  saying  that  she  was  innocent  of  any  crime 
save  tbat  of  having  consented  to  become  his  mistress  to 
pass  herself  as  his  wife,  and  to  share  the  proceeds  of  his 
ill-gotten  gains)  my  friend  broke  the  subject  of  the  jewels. 

The  woman  turned  pale,  and  for  some  time  pretended 
entire  ignorance  regarding  them ;  but  on  being  assured 
that  they  had  been  recognized  at  Saratoga  by  a  gentleman 
who  had  known  them  to  have  formerly  belonged  to  a 
young  lady  respecting  whose  fate  strange  rumors  were 
afloat,  and  that  this  gentleman  had  determined  to  inves- 
tigate the  matter  thoroughly,  and  that  any  light  she  could 
throw  on  it,  provided  she  did  not  directly  criminate  her- 
self, would  tend  to  her  future  benefit.  She  acknowledged 
to  having  seen  a  gentleman  at  the  Springs  who  had  re- 
marked to  her  that  he  had  seen  a  set  of  similar  jewels  in  the 
possession  of  a  friend  of  his,  to  whom  she  returned  an 
evasive  answer,  when  he  addressed  her  in  somewhat  of 
an  interrogative  manner ;  "  but,"  said  she,  "  I  am  guilt- 
less of  any  evil  respecting  these  jewels,  and  it  was  not 

antil  after  the  arrest  of  P and  myself,  that  he  told 

me  how  he  procured  them,  and  made  me  promise  secrecy 
regarding  them." 

"  If  you  maintain  secrecy  in  a  matter  implicated  with 


804:  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

the  commission  of  crime,"  said  my  friend,  "you  rendei 
yourself  equally  guilty.  The  gentleman  is  determined, 
as  I  have  said,  to  have  the  affair  thoroughly  investigated, 
and  the  confession  you  can  now  give  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  be  beneficial  to  yourself,  will  by-and-by  be  extorted 
from  you.  You  can  scarcely  more  deeply  implicate 

P ;  his  crimes  are  known  to  be  so  great  as  to  render 

his  escape  from  justice  impossible ;  but  if  you  tell  me  all 
you  know  of  this  business,  I  think  I  may  promise  you 
that  measures  will  be  taken  to  get  you  clear,  and  you  will 
also  be  rewarded  for  the  service  you  may  thus  render 
the  unfortunate." 

Thus  pressed  and  persuaded,  the  woman  told  the  fol- 
lowing story: 

"  I  knew  P ,"  said  she,  "  before  he  went  to  Cali- 
fornia, many  years  ago.  He  has  wealthy  friends,  in  the 

State  of ,  who,  however,  cast  him  off  altogether  some 

years  since,  for  they  had  long  tried  in  vain  to  reclaim 
him ; — this  he  told  me  himself,  and  boasted  of  his  inde- 
pendence. Some  how  or  other  he  always  had  a  great 
deal  of  money,  and  when  he  was  younger  was  really 
handsome — he  is  handsome  still. 

"  I  lived  with  him  for  some  time,  and  then  he  left  me 
in  New  Orleans,  and  went  northward :  there  I  heard  that 
he  had  gained  a  vast  deal  of  money  by  gambling,  in 
which  science  he  was  an  adept.  He  passed  himself  off  as 
a  gentleman  of  independent  fortune  and  assuming  a  false 
name,  pretending  to  be  connected  with  a  distinguished 
southern  family,  he  succeeded  in  worming  himself  into 

good  society  in  A ,  and  there  he  became  acquainted 

with  Miss  L ,  a  very  beautiful  and  innocent,  but  gay 

and  high-spirited  girl,  whose  parents  were  dead,  but  who 
was  possessed  of  a  considerable  amount  of  property  in 
money.  He  succeeded  in  winning  her  affections,  and  a 
mock  marriage  was  solemnized,  and,  unknown  to  her 
friends,  the  poor  deceived  girl  went  off  with,  as  she  sup- 
posed, her  husband. 

"  It  was  a  year  or  two  before  she  was  undeceived,  and 
»,nen  she  only  learnt  the  sad  truth  in  consequence  of  a 


STRAY   LEAVES   FEOM  MY  JOUKNAL.  305 

quarrel  that  took  place  between  her  supposed  husband 
and  a  friend  respecting  an  unfortunate  female  whom  he 
had  deceived  in  the  same  manner.  This  friend  of  P — —  's 
was  a  young  man  of  good  connections  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  Union ;  but  he  was  of  a  depraved  disposition, 
and,  as  it  appeared,  when  his  fraudulent  actions  had  at 
length  been  discovered,  he  had  been  guilty  of  peculation 
to  a  large  amount  for  several  years.  Meanwhile  he  lived 
in  style  with  the  poor  girl,  who  believed  him  to  be  her 
husband  and  who  bore  him  a  child,  still  in  that  belief, 
which  I  have  heard,  however,  was  still-born,  or  died 
shortly  after  its  birth.  After  she  had  learnt  that  she  was 
not  married  to  the  man  she  believed  to  be  her  husband, 
she  became  very  unhappy,  but  she  still  continued  to  live 
with  him,  and  bore  him  another  child,  which  also  died. 

"  About  this  time  P had  determined  to  go  to  Cali- 
fornia, and  as  the  quarrel  which  had  occurred  with  him 
and  his  young  friend  had  been  cemented,  he  persuaded 
him  to  accompany  him  thither,  both  of  them  leaving  the 
deceived  women  whom  they  had  been  living  with,  in 
New  York.  Indeed  P 's  friend  was  glad  of  the  op- 
portunity, for  his  villainy  had  been  discovered  by  his 
employers,  and  the  Northern  and  Eastern  States  had  be- 
come rather  unpleasant  abiding  places  for  him.  Indeed, 
had  it  not  been  lor  the  respectability  of  his  connections, 
he  would  have  been  sent  for  a  long  period  to  the  states- 
prison.  As  it  was,  by  some  flaw  in  the  indictment,  he 
got  off. 

"  While  they  were  both  away,  the  two  females,  who 
had  conceived  a  great  affection  for  each  other,  lived  to- 
gether, although  P 's  mistress,  who  had  friends  who 

were  unaware  of  the  deceit  that  had  been  practiced  upon 
her,  used  sometimes  to  visit  her  friends  secretly,  and  she 
always  maintained  a  disguise  before  strangers.  She  was 
a  lively,  thoughtless,  but  kind-hearted  girl,  and,  with  all 

his  faults,  devotedly  attached  to  P ;  and  she  even 

affected  to  like  the  mystery  in  which  she  lived. 

"  While  her  protector  was  in  California  the  young 
woman  who  passed  as  the  wife  of  P 's  friend,  gave 


306  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

birth  to  a  third  child,  which  lived,  as  I  have  been  told ; 

for  both  P and  his  friend  regularly  received  letters 

from  the  poor  duped  girls,  in  which  they  told  them  all 
that  passed.  From  what  I  have  learned,  the  associates 

of  P and  his  friend  in  California  were  of  a  most 

abandoned  character,  and  for  some  crime,  the  nature  of 

which  P never  told  me,  he  was  obliged  himself  to 

fly  from  that  place.  I  have  since  heard  it  hinted  that  it 
was  murder,  and  that  it  is  for  that  he  has  been  arrested. 

"  He  had  a  very  large  amount  of  money  with  him 
when  he  came  from  California,  and  at  his  request,  (for  he 
met  me  in  New  Orleans)  I  came  on  with  him  to  the  north, 
now  nearly  a  year  ago.  He  told  me  he  was  keeping 
another  woman  he  had  deceived  by  a  mock  marriage ;  but 
that  he  was  tired  of  her,  and  as  she  still  had  some  money 
of  her  own,  he  intended  to  get  it  from  her  arid  then  turn 
her  adrift.  With  that  purpose  he  paid  her  a  visit  at 
New  York,  and  he  was  also  charged  with  a  message  from 
his  friend  to  the  lady  who  passed  as  his  wife,  fie  told 
me  that  they  left  the  house  together  in  order  to  proceed 
to  Philadelphia  on  some  business  connected  with  his 
friend,  but  I  never  could  get  him  to  tell  me  more  respect- 
ing his  friend's  mistress  and  her  child ;  whether  or  not 
they  are  in  California  I  do  not  know.  He  has  hinted 
that  they  are.  What  I  have  told  you  I  have  heard  at 
different  times  from  him.  These  jewels  belonged  to  P — 's 
former  mistress ;  he  presented  them  to  me  a  few  months 
ago,  telling  me  that  she  was  dead ;  but  after  we  were 
arrested,  he  told  me  he  had  told  me  a  falsehood ; — she 
was  not  dead,  but  in  a  private  lodging-house — a  sort  of 

lunatic  asylum  in  South  Carolina  near  B .  He  swore 

me  to  secrecy,  saying  that  he  had  only  told  me  this  to 
prevent  me  making  any  false  statements  respecting  the 
jewels,  should  I  be  questioned  regarding  them.  And 
this,"  said  the  woman,  "  is  all  I  know." 

"I  was  perfectly  horror-struck,"  said  my  friend,  in  his 
letter,  4i  at  the  coolness  of  this  poor,  wretched,  abandoned 
woman,  while  telling  this  tale  of  guilt,  deceit  and  cruelty, 
but  as  the  narrative  has  been  drawn  from  her  under  pro- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  307 

mises  of  protection,  we  must  do  the  best  we  can  for  her. 
After  all,  I  think  she  is  not  cognizant  of  any  of  the 
graver  charges  that  are  preferred  against  her  guilty  pa- 
ramour." 

My  friend  advised  me  to  proceed  to  the  town  he  men- 
tioned in  South  Carolina,  and  there  endeavor  to  find  out 
the  place  in  which  the  poor  young  woman  was  confined, 
but  this  I  had  determined  to  do  as  soon  as  I  had  read 
the  letter ;  as  from  her  I  hoped  to  gain  further  intelli- 
gence should  I  be  fortunate  enough  to  find  her,  and  also 
to  clear  up  several  discrepancies  in  the  story  told  by  the 
woman  in  jail  in  Galveston.  I  lost  no  time  in  proceed- 
ing to  the  place  specified,  and  after  some  difficulty  I  dis- 
covered the  object  of  my  search. 


308  THE  OLD  DOCTOR'   OR. 


CHAPTEK   XXIV. 

I  MENTIONED  that  after  considerable  difficulty,  I  had 
succeeded  in  discovering  the  object  of  my  search  in 
the  private  lunatic  asylum,  as  it  was  called,  in  South 
Carolina ;  but  I  was  there  a  long  time,  and  had  to  pro- 
ceed very  cautiously  to  work  to  do  this.  I  made  numer- 
ous inquiries  before  I  could  get  the  least  clue  to  the  ex- 
istence of  any  place  similar  to  that  of  which  I  was  in 
search.  "  There  is  no  such  place  in  this  State  as  a  pri- 
vate lunatic  asylum,  that  I  am  aware  of,"  was  the  re- 
sponse to  every  question  that  I  put  to  reside'nts  in  the  ci- 
ties and  villages,  or  to  the  visitors  at  the  hotels,  and  I 
almost  thought  of  giving  up  in  despair  all  further  search, 
and  returning  home.  However,  one  day  while  at  Lex- 
ington, I  heard  some  conversation  between  two  gentle- 
men, which  attracted  my  attention,  as  it  seemed  to  pro- 
mise some  hopes  of  my  discovering  the  whereabouts  of 
the  incognita.  They  were  speaking  of  a  so  called  "  mad 
doctor,"  who  had  an  establishment  at  a  secluded  spot  not 
many  miles  from  Chester,  and  while  in  the  course  of 
conversation,  they  exchanged  several  jests  respecting  the 
nature  of  this  man's  occupation,  and  the  real  character  of 
the  patients  that  were  boarded  at  his  house.  I  listened 
eagerly,  and  at  length,  in  as  careless  a  manner  as  I  could 
assume — for  I  did  not  wish  to  excite  suspicion — I  joined 
in  the  conversation. 

"  It  is  astonishing,"  said  I,  in  reply  to  some  remarks 
made  by  one  of  the  gentlemen,  "it  is  astonishing 
that  so  cruel  and  scandalous  an  establishment  should  be 
allowed  to  exist.  Surely,  the  authorities  should  institute 
inquiries  into  the  nature  of  the  treatment  and  the  true 
state  of  the  minds  of  the  patients  or  boarders,  and  if  it 
be  as  you  say,  the  villainous  proprietor,  as  well  as  those 
he  is  aiding  and  abetting  by  his  abominable  practices, 
should  be  punished  most  severely." 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  809 

"  Well,"  replied  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  addressed 
myself,  "  well,  the  fact  is,  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  inter- 
fere with.  Few  persons,  unless,  like  myself,  they  have 
had  especial  opportunities  for  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this  business, 
know  anything  about  it.  The  general  belief  is,  that  it  is 
a  place  wherein,  by  a  peculiar  method  of  treatment,  per- 
sons suffering  from  slight  aberration  of  intellect,  are  often 
restored  to  reason,  and  no  doubt  there  are  some  patients 
of  that  description  there  ;  but  I  know,"  he  added  signifi- 
cantly, "  that  there  are  those  who  are  as  sane  as  ever  they 
were,  or  ever  will  be ;  that  is,  they  were  sane  when  they 
were  sent  there.  They  may  since  have  been  driven  to 
insanity ;  and  as  to  the  authorities,  they  have  no  right 
to  interfere,  unless  called  upon  by  some  particular  party, 
and  then  it  would  be  a  difficult  matter  to  effect  any- 
thing." 

"But  surely,"  responded  I,  "you,  as  you  say,  knowing 
that  iniquitous  work  is  going  on  there,  could  interfere — 
could  do  something  to  right  the  innocent  and  helpless, 
and  bring  their  betrayers  to  just  and  well  merited  pun- 
ishment?" 

The  gentleman  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  he 
replied : 

"It  is  no  particular  business  of  mine,  and  I  am  too 
wise  to  enter  the  lists  as  a  knight-errant,  eager  to  rescue 
forlorn  and  distressed  damsels.  If  the  matter  personally 
concerned  me,  it  would  be  another  affair,"  and  so  saying, 
he  turned  away  as  if  desirous  of  dropping  the  subject  of 
conversation. 

While  conversing,  I  had  pretty  well  learned  the  lo- 
cality in  which  the  house  I  had  spoken  of,  was  situated. 
It  was  in  a  lonely  retired  spot,  at  some  distance  from  any 
other  human  habitation,  and  a  mile  Or  two  from  any  vil- 
lage, and  the  following  morning  at  an  early  hour,  I  hired 
a  horse  and  chaise,  and  set  out  alone  to  reconnoitre  the 
spot,  meaning  during  the  ride,  to  turn  over  in  my  mind 
the  best  means  to  serve  the  party  immured  within,  in 
whose  behalf  I  daily  became  more  and  more  interested. 


810  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

After  driving  for  a  mile  or  so  along  the  principal  pub- 
lic road  leading  from  the  village  of  C ,  I  came  to  a 

narrow  lane  which  led  between  two  deep  ravines  of  ex 
traordinary  beauty,  the  summit  of  the  trees  scarcely 
reaching  the  level  of  the  narrow  lane — so  that  the  eye 
roamed  over  a  mass  of  the  most  luxuriant  foliage,  which 
appeared  to  extend  for  miles,  displaying  all  the  varieties 
of  color  and  of  shade  that  are  peculiar  to  the  different 
species  of  palms,  and  here  and  there  diversified  by  the 
livelier  green  of  the  elm  and  the  maple ;  while  the  coup 
d'ceil  was  frequently  relieved  by  the  brown  and  neutral 
tints  of  the  faded  leaves  of  trees  which  had  been  blighted, 
apparently,  in  the  midst  of  their  bloom.  Keeping  this 
road  for  some  considerable  distance,  I  at  length  emerged 
into  a  more  open  tract  of  country,  and  here  and  there, 
dotting,  though  sparsely,  the  cultivated  surface,  was  a 
small  farm-house.  Haifa  mile  of  further  travel  through 
the  lane,  led  me  on  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  public  road, 
though  one  little  used,  and  turning  to  the  left,  I  drove 
for  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  then  turned  shortly  off  into 
a  lane  nearly  overgrown  with  grass,  which  sloped  gently 
down  a  hill.  At  its  foot,  a  short  distance  to  the  right,  was 
a  thick  copse  of  trees,  from  amidst  which,  at  distant  in- 
tervals, could  be  discerned  the  white  walls  and  green 
window-blinds  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  large  mansion. — 
From  the  information  I  had  cautiously  gleaned  at  the 
hotel  on  the  previous  day,  I  had  no  doubt  this  was  the 
place  I  was  in  search  of;  and  now  came  the  difficult  ques- 
tion, how  was  I  to  make  the  object  of  my  visit  known  to 
the  person  whom  I  sought  ?  If  I  was  not  particularly 
careful  and  cautious  in  my  proceedings,  I  might  possibly 
effect  more  harm  than  good  ;  for,  if  any  suspicions  were 
entertained  of  the  nature  of  my  visit,  the  poor  unfortu- 
nate creature  might  be  removed  to  some  other  and  still 
more  difficult  place  of  concealment.  So,  if  I  applied  to 
the  authorities  for  aid,  the  like  difficulties  would  be 
placed  in  my  way — for  I  had  no  legal  charge  to  make 
against  the  proprietor  of  the  establishment,  and  I  could 
not  describe  the  person  whom  I  was  in  search  of.  I 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  311 

therefore  stood  a  good  chance,  upon  making  such  appli 
cation,  of  being  myself  considered  a  lunatic.  Besides,  the 
very  fact  of  my  having  applied  to  the  authorities,  must 
become  known  to  the  proprietor  before  the  power  of  the 
law  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  and  the  like  re- 
sult would  follow.  For  he  would,  of  course,  remove  his 
ward  to  safer  keeping,  or  perchance — for  such  a  man,  1 
thought,  is  capable  of  any  action,  however  atrocious — her 
own  fears  may  be  realized,  and  her  life  may  pay  the  for- 
feit of  rny  temerity. 

All  this  I  had  revolved  in  my  mind  as  I  had  ridden 
along  the  road,  and  I  had  arrived  at  no  definite  conclu- 
sion how  to  proceed,  when  at  length  I  had  got  within 
sight  of  the  establishment. 

However,  I  alighted  from  the  carriage,  and  leading  the 
horse  into  the  grove,  I  fastened  the  reins  to  a  tree,  and 
proceeded  leisurely  and  cautiously  in  the  direction  of  the 
mansion. 

It  was  a  large  wooden  building,  having  no  pretensions 
to  elegance,  and  yet  rendered  tasteful  by  means  of  the 
cleanliness  of  the  outside,  and  the  neatness  and  order  of 
the  flower  garden  and  shrubbery  which  surrounded  it. 
Vines  were  trained  to  spread  over  the  front  of  the  man- 
sion, and  almost  to  cover  the  roof.  The  whole  place  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  being  the  residence  of  some 
wealthy  planter,  or  perhaps  the  country  seat  of  some  city 
merchant ;  the  beautiful  scenery  in  the  midst  of  which  it 
was  located  added  to  its  attractions,  and  the  landscape 
was  completed  by  the  rugged  outline  of  a  range  of  gray 
mountains,  whose  sharply  defined  angular  summits  stood 
in  bold  relief  against  the  clear  blue  sky.  I  was  almost 
inclined  to  believe  that  I  had  been  mistaken  in  the  place, 
for  it  appeared  scarcely  possible  that  sin  and  sorrow  could 
exist  in  the  midst  of  this  sweet  solitude  ;  but  I  recollected 
that  as  the  fairest  apple  is  often  rotten  at  the  core,  so  the 
fairest  front  may  conceal  the  foulest  interior — the  love- 
liest face  and  form  the  most  false  and  deceitful  heart. 
Men  should  learn  not  to  judge  from  specious  appearances. 

I  roamed  about  for  an  hour,  admiring  the  scenery  from 


312  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  on, 

every  point  of  view,  and  at  the  same  time  keeping- a  sharp 
look  out,  while  I  strove  to  remain  unobserved,  upon  the 
house  and  grounds.  For  a  long  time  no  living  person 
was  visible,  though  two  or  three  times  my  eyes  were  de- 
ceived by  the  statutes  that  ornamented  the  ground,  as  the 
branches  waving  to  and  fro  before  them,  gave  to  thtim 
the  semblance  of  motion,  but  at  last  I  was  certain  I  saw 
two  female  figures.  I  cautiously  approached,  and  unless 
my  eyes  deceived  me,  one  form  resembled  in  every  par- 
ticular, the  very  lady  for  whom  I  was  in  search.  A  thick 
group  of  trees  close  to  one  of  the  angles  of  the  grounds, 
afforded  me  a  commodious  place  for  observation  without 
being  observed,  and  there  I  stationed  myself.  By-and- 
by  two  of  the  ladies  approached  the  spot  (I  now  saw 
there  was  four  in  the  garden,)  and  from  their  conversa- 
tion, for  I  was  close  enough  to  hear  it,  I  perceived  these 
were  really  insane.  They  were  conversing  about  the 
"  Hanging  gardens  of  Ancient  Babylon,"  of  which  they 
fancied  themselves  the  royal  inmates  and  owners;  but 
neither  of  them  was  the  object  of  my  search.  They 
were  both  women  past  the  middle  age,  and  stout  and 
well-looking,  seemingly  well  satisfied  and  happy  in  their 
situation.  A  few  minutes  more  and  the  other  ladies  ap- 
proached the  angle,  and  now  I  was  certain  that  one  of 
them  was  the  incognita,  for  although  I  could  not  get 
sight  of  her  face,  (if  I  had,  it  would  have  served  me 
nought)  I  could  not  be  deceived  in  so  close  a  view  of  her 
agure.  The  female  with  her  had  the  air  of  an  upper  ser- 
vant, and  I  set  her  down  at  once  as  one  of  the  female 
keepers  of  the  establishment.  One  point  now  was  gained  ; 
but  still  I  was  as  far  off  as  ever  from  the  main  purpose 
of  my  visit,  viz :  the  obtaining  speech  with  the  incogni- 
ta, as  I  shall  still  continue  to  designate  her. 

Just  then  my  attention  was  arrested  by  the  sound  of 
the  heavy  footsteps  of  a  man,  who  passed  in  close  prox- 
imity to  my  hiding-place ;  so  close,  indeed,  as  to  alarm 
me,  for  if,  as  I  suspected,  he  had  been  an  inmate — per- 
haps one  of  the  servants  of  the  establishment — I  should 
have  been  placed  in  an  awkward  predicament,  if  caught 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  813 

thus  prowling  about  and  so  near  a  place  of  such  a  suspi- 
cious character. 

However,  he  passed  on,  and  walked  along  the  skirt  of 
the  shrubbery  in  the  direction  of  the  two  last-mentioned 
females.  Presently  he  gave  a  low,  peculiar  whistle,  and 
the  elder  female  immediately  turned  her  head,  and  held 
a  handkerchief  aloft  in  her  hand ;  then  addressing  her- 
self to  the  younger  female,  moving  her  forefinger  up  and 
down,  as  though  in  admonition,  she  began  to  retrace  her 
steps,  while  the  younger  woman  passed  slowly  on. 

As  soon  as  the  man  perceived  that  his  signal  had  been 
answered,  he  also  began  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  came 
towards  my  place  of  concealment.  I  began  to  think 
that  it  would  be  advisable  for  me  to  beat  a  retreat  as 
quickly  as  possible,  if  I  did  not  want  to  be  discovered. 
And  now  the  sentence  in  the  letter  recurred  to  my  recol- 
lection, wherein  the  writer  had  remarked  that  her  keeper 
took  the  opportunity  of  a  daily  airing  in  the  garden,  to 
meet  her  lover,  and  that  it  was  during  one  of  these  meet- 
ings that  she  had  managed  to  get  the  letter  conveyed  to 
the  mother  of  poor  Mary  Mason.  I  had  no  doubt  now 
that  I  had  stumbled  upon  the  lovers'  trysting-place,  and 
assuredly  it  was  a  place  well  adapted  for  Cupid's  ambush ; 
so  secret  was  it — so  secure  from  all  observation  from  with- 
out were  those  who  ensconced  themselves  within  its 
mazes — that  they,  as  I  had  done,  could  observe  the  ap- 
proach of  an  intruder  in  sufficient  time  to  escape  unper- 
ceived. 

Having  had  a  little  experience  in  such  matters  myself, 
I  knew  that  when  a  lady  and  gentleman  meet  under 
these  peculiar  circumstances,  the  interview  is  generally 
protracied  to  an  indefinite  time,  provided  they  meet  with 
no  awkward  interruption  to  their  sweet  discourse ;  and  I 
hoped,  while  the  lady  was  so  happily  engaged,  I  might 
be  enabled  at  least  to  meet  the  object  of  my  search — to 
communicate  with  her — to  assure  her  that  assistance  was 
at  hand,  and  to  arrange  the  preliminaries  for  future 
action. 

By  the  time  that  I  had  effected  my  retreat,  the  lady 

14 


814  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

had  unlocked  the  gate  of  the  garden,  and  passed  out, 
carefully  relocking  it  from  the  outside,  and  then  she  and 
her  loving  swain,  as  I  had  anticipated,  both  drew  near 
the  secluded  spot  I  had  just  quitted. 

I  passed  round  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  enclosed 
grounds  which  might  have  been  a  furlong  or  more  off, 
for  the  shrubbery  was  extensive,  and,  posting  myself  as 
near  as  possible  to  the  walk  near  the  skirt  of  the  grounds, 
I  waited  the  approach  of  the  incognita  whom  I  observed 
slowly  walking  towards  me. 

As  she  drew  near  me,  I  coughed  slightly  in  order  to 
attract  her  attention,  and  she  started  as  if  alarmed,  and  I 
thought,  was  about  to  retire,  when  I  exclaimed  softly, 
yet  loud  enough  for  my  voice  to  reach  her  ear : 

« I  am  Dr. ." 

For  a  moment  the  young  woman  stood  as  if  struck 
motionless  by  a  thunder-bolt ;  but  presently  recovering 
herself,  I  heard  her  ejaculate: 

"  Thank  Godl  my  prayers  have  been  heard  at  last." 

She  advanced  towards  the  close,  quick-set  hedge  which 
separated  us,  and  in  a  trembling  voice  said: 

"  You  are  not  deceiving  me?" 

"  I  am  not,"  I  replied ;  "  how  could  any  other  person 
than  myself  know  that  you  are  here,  and  are  in  need  of 
aid,  and  be  willing  to  render  it?  How  should  any  other 

than  I  know  that  ypu  sent  Mrs.  W ,  and  wished  her 

to  let  me  know  how  you  were  situated  ?" 

"  It  is  enough,  doctor,"  replied  the  lady,  in  a  more 
assured  tone.  "  I  know  your  voice.  Thank  God  1  you 
have  come  at  last." 

All  this  time  I  could  not  distinguish  more  than  the 
outlines  of  the  lady's  dress  through  the  thickly  grown 
hedge ;  but  she  whispered  to  me : 

"  Follow  me  round  to  another  place,  where  we  will  be 
better  able  to  converse  and  more  secure  from  observation 
from  the  house.  Keep  as  close  to  the  hedge  as  possible; 
for,  if  you  are  seen,  all  possibility  of  helping  me,  will,  I 
fear,  be  at  an  end." 

I  did  as  the  young  woman  requested,  and  followed  her 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  315 

until  she  had  led  me  to  a  place  where  the  hedge  was  not 
so  dense,  although  from  its  formation,  and  the  thorny 
nature  of  the  wood,  it  was  impenetrable,  and  which  was 
hidden  from  the  house  by  a  copse  of  young  cedars. 

Here  I  had  for  the  first  time  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  features  of  the  incognita,  and  how  great  was  my  sur- 
prise to  recognize  in  her  the  leading  belle,  but  a  few 
years  before,  of  one  of  the  most  fashionable  sea-bathing 
places  in  the  United  States.  The  sweet  face,  to  be  sure, 
was  worn  with  suffering — the  expressive  features  told 
too  plainly  that  the  heart  had  been  tortured  with  grief, 
and  the  fair,  fresh  complexion  was  pallid — the  roses  had 
fled  and  left  the  lily  alone  to  mourn  the  absence  of  the 
sister  queen  of  flowers,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  under 
this  guise  of  sorrow  the  features  of  the  lovely  and  accom- 
plished Miss ,  the  beauty  and  the  heiress,  who  had 

turned  half  the  gentlemen  visitors  of  the  bathing-place 
crazy. 

I  gave  an  involuntary  start  of  astonishment  and  dis- 
may. She  observed  it,  and  smiling  languidly  she  said, 
u  Yes,  you  may  well  start,  doctor ;  when  you  saw  me  at 

,  when  I  used  to  walk  out  on  the  beach  with  Mrs. 

,  your  good  lady,  it  would  have  been  an  idle  romance 

had  either  of  us  ventured  to  dream  that  the  revolution 
of  a  few  brief  years  would  make  such  a  difference  be- 
tween us — little  did  I  imagine  that  such  a  horrible  gulf 
was  yawning  to  embrace  me,  and  that  I  should  be  led 
idly  to  its  brink  and  thus  fall — fall — to  its  lowest  abyss." 

As  she  said  this,  she  wept  piteously,  but  shortly  reco- 
vering herself,  she  added  with  something  of  her  old 
manner  as  she  dashed  aside  the  tears : 

"  It  is  no  use  to  mourn  thus.  Action,  not  lamentation, 
must  now  be  the  word.  I  thank  you,  doctor,  that  worth- 
less as  I  am,  you  still  have  humanity  enough  not  utterly 
to  forsake  me.  I  know  now  what  must  be  your  opinion 
of  me ;  but,  perhaps  some  day  it  may  be  altered,  that  is, 
in  some  decree.  I  did  not  sin  wilfully;  but,  like  the 
angels,  I  allowed  pride  to  mislead  me,  and  having  dis- 
covered the  dreadful  error  I  had  committed,  I  cast  aside 


316  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

the  upbraidings  of  conscience  and  tried  to  persuade  my- 
self that  I  was  happy.  Happy!  ah,  ha,"  continued  she, 
hysterically — "  happy !  Happiness  and  I  have  been 
strangers  for  many,  many  years.  We  parted  when  I 
stumbled  from  the  path  of  duty,  and  we  shall  never  meet 
again." 

"  My  dear  Miss  T ,'  said  I",  venturing  to  mention 

her  name,  "  if  you  wish  me  to  aid  you,  you  must  not 
thus  give  way  to  your  feelings :  believe  me,  I  do  not  see 
in  you  the  object  of  scorn  that  you  seem  wrongfully  to 
conceive  yourself  to  be.  I  have  heard  sufficient  to  satisfy 
me  that  you  were  more  sinned  against  than  sinning;  but 

recollect,  Miss  T ,  that  for  the  present  all  thoughts  of 

what  is  past  must  be  banished.  Some  measures  must 
first  be  taken  to  remove  you  from  this  place,  and  then 
we  will  talk  of  other  matters — " 

"  Call  me  not  Miss  T ,  doctor,"  she  replied; — "  I 

have,  through  folly  and  crime — aye,  through  .crime, 
though  it  was  not  of  my  own  conception,  rendered  my- 
self unworthy  of  the  name,"  and  again  the  unhappy 
woman  began  to  weep.  I  hastened  to  console  her ;  for  I 
felt  that  every  minute  thus  lost,  planted  greater  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  my  obtaining  her  deliverance  from  the 
dreadful  place  in  which  she  was  imprisoned. 

"  Calm  yourself,  calm  yourself,  madam,"  I  repeated. 
"  recollect  that  every  moment  we  may  be  interrupted, 

and  future  chances  of  meeting  prevented ;  as  Miss  T , 

I  knew  you,  and  still  know  you ;  and  it  were  folly  thus 
to  allow  silly  fancies  to  place  obstacles  in  the  way  of  your 
release." 

"  I  know  it  is  folly,"  she  replied.  "  Forgive  me,  doc- 
tor, and  I  will  try  to  abstain  i'rom  such  display  of  weak- 
ness in  future." 

"  Then  tell  me,"  said  I,  "  do  you  walk  in  these  grounds 
every  day  ?" 

"  Almost  every  day,  when  the  weather  is  fine." 

"And  the  woman — your  companion — does  she  often 
absent  herself  thus  ?" 

"  Yes,  for  some  time  past  she  has  absented  herself  for 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  317 

an  hour,  sometimes  more.  A  man  comes  to  meet  her 
there  where  you  see  the  tops  of  yonder  clump  of  trees. 
I  fancy  he  is  her  lover." 

"  Then  if  this  continues,  we  can  make  arrangements 
as  to  the  best  course  to  be  pursued.  '  I  could  of  course 
make  immediate  complaints  to  the  authorities,  and  ob- 
tain a  search  warrant  for  your  person,  or  at  least  cause 
a  jury  of  physicians  to  be  empanelled,  in  order  to  test  your 
sanity  and  to  investigate  the  cause  of  your  incarceration 
in  this  place,  but  that  would  occupy  time,  and  as  I  have 
no  means  to  identify  you,  it  might  lead,  if  the  establish- 
ment merits  the  character  I  have  heard  of  it,  to  your 
removal  to  some  other  and  more  secluded  spot.  We 
must,  therefore,  proceed  with  caution,  and  devise  some 
safer  and  surer  method." 

"  Oh  no,  for  God's  sake,"  she  cried  with  a  shudder, 
"  do  not  let  it  be  known  that  you  are  taking  any  inter- 
est in  me.  Oh  !  I  have  known  horrible  things  to  hap- 
pen here  :  for  once  or  twice  the  friends  of  some  unfortu 
nate  inmates  have  sought  them  out — but  they  never 
found  them — and  so  secretly  and  so  cautiously  have  the 
plans  of  those  who  have  placed  them  here  been  laid, 
that  scarcely  a  shadow  of  suspicion  has  rested  upon  the 
establishment ;  nay,  I  have  sometimes  got  hold  of  a  torn 
local  print,  in  which  a  parcel  has  been  wrapped,  and  I 
have  seen  the  institution  highly  spoken  of,  and  its  con- 
ductor mentioned  with  praise  for  his  humane  treatment 
of  the  poor  insane  creatures  committed  to  his  charge." 

"  This,  then,  is  a  private  lunatic  asylum  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  is  to  a  certain  extent.  At  present  there  are  but 
three  persons  confined  here.  Myself,  and  two  harmless 
lunatics  who  are  really  well  treated,  and  who  receive  oc- 
casionally the  visits  of  their  friends.  One  or  two,  since 
I  have  been  here,  have  gone  out  cured,  and  thus  furnished 
fresh  matter  for  the  eulogies  that  had  been  bestowed  upon 
the  establishment ;  but  there  were  two  persons  besides  my- 
self confined  on  a  charge  of  lunacy  who  were  sane  as  I 
am  ;  that  I  could  perceive,  although  we  were  not  allow- 
ed to  hold  conversation  with  each  other ;  but  we  were 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

all  allowed  to  converse  with  and  associate  fully  with  the 
lunatics,  in  hopes,  I  suspect,  that  we  might  be  driven 
by  their  companionship  into  the  same  awful  state.  One 
day  some  friends  came  to  inquire  for  them,  and  from 
what  I  observed,  the  proprietor  became  alarmed  ;  it  was 
denied  that  they  were  here  at  all,  and  when  a  search  was 
insisted  upon,  they  could  not  be  found.  Nothing  in- 
dicated that  they  had  ever  been  inmates  of  the  establish- 
ment ;  but,  doctor,  I  have  my  suspicions  that  they  were  made 
away  with." 

The  poor  young  woman  shuddered  as  she  spoke,  and 
I  myself,  was  seized  with  a  sensation  of  intense  horror. 
Her  earnestness  and  the  extreme  terror  with  which  she 
almost  hissed  out  the  last  sentence  sent  a  horrible  thrill 
through  my  veins. 

However,  I  quickly  recovered  myself  and  said : 

"  If  the  weather  be  fine,  I  will  see  you  again  to-mor- 
row, meanwhile  tell  me  as  briefly  as  possible  the  method 
by  which  you  were  lured  hither." 

The  young  woman  gazed  around  her;  "  see,"  she  said, 
"  that  Martha  is  not  coming.  If  she  observes  you  I  am 
lost." 

"  No  one  is  approaching,"  said  I,  "  I  am  concealed 
from  view  myself  by  those  trees  ;  but  I  can  see  the  mo- 
ment one  or  the  other  of  them  quit  their  hiding  place, 
and  I  will  give  you  warning,  and  take  myself  off  in 
time." 

The  young  woman  stooped  down  suddenly  and  ap- 
peared to  be  busily  occupied  with  a  bunch  of  flowers 
that  grew  at  her  feet — "Hush  I"  she  whispered,  conceal 
yourself — these  poor  mad  women  are  coming  up  the  path 
and  will  pass  this  way.  They  will  pass  on  if  they  do  not 
observe  you,  for  they  consider  me  beneath  their  notice. 
They  think,  one  of  them  that  she  is  Queen  of  Babylon, 
and  the  other  that  she  is  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  they 
affect  to  believe  that  I  am  only  a  handmaid  of  King 
Solomon." 

I  had  scarcely  time  to  hide  myself  behind  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  when  the  two  females  passed,  they  tossed  their 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  819 

heads  contemptuously  as  they  passed  by  Miss  T ,  and 

were  soon  out  of  sight  in  one  of  the  winding  walks  of  the 

garden.  Miss  T arose  from  her  stooping  posture 

and  sat  herself  on  an  antique  carved  garden-seat,  as 
though  she  were  lounging  idly,  observing : — 

"  It  were  better  that  I  sit  thus,  in  case  I  should  be 
perceived  by  any  person  belonging  to  the  establishment, 
although  seldom  any  one  but  Martha  walks  in  these 
grounds;  the  private  gardens  are  at  the  back  of  the 
house." 

She  then  proceeded  to  tell  the  following  story : — 

"  One  day,  a  good  many  months  ago,  for  since  I  have 
been  here  I  have  lost  record  of  time — at  first  I  was  too 
much  paralyzed  by  grief  to  think  of  it,  and  since  I  have 
had  no  opportunity — but  perhaps  ten  or  twelve  months 
ago,  just  on  the  very  day  that  Mrs.  Mason  had  appointed 
to  see  her  mother,  and,  if  I  recollect  aright,  to  tell  you 
her  melancholy  history,  we  were  both  of  us  surprised  by 
a  visit  from  P ,  the  false-hearted  monster  who  de- 
ceived me  into  the  belief  that  I  was  his  wife,  and  who 
subsequently  betrayed  me ; — but  it  is  necessary  that  I 
should  explain  this,  and  I  fear  it  will  take  too  long  a 
time,  or  you  will  not  understand  my  story  ?" 

"No,  no,"  I  replied,  "never  mind.  By-and-by,  I 
hope,  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  how  I  heard  of  the  de- 
ception of  which  you  became  the  unconscious  victim ; 
proceed  briefly  with  the  history  of  your  having  beec 
kidnapped  into  this  place." 

"Well,  then,  doctor,"  she  continued,  "on  that  very 

morning  that  I  have  mentioned,  P ,  (I  cannot  now 

call  him  my  husband,  though  I  loved  and  honored  him 
as  such  long  after  his  falsehood  was  known  to  me,  so 
fondly  was  1  attached  to  him,)  came  to  our  residence.  I 
met  him  with  joy,  and  flew  to  his  embrace,  while  Mrs. 
Mason,  herself,  was  pleased  to  see  him,  for  she  hoped 
through  him,  as  he  had  been  to  California,  to  hear  of  the 

man  whom  she,  too,  still  called  her  husband.  P 

was  kind,  apparently,  in  his  manner ;  but  there  seemed 
to  be  a  restraint  upon  his  mind  which  overburdened 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

him,  and  after  returning  my  embrace  he  became  for  some 
moments  quite  abstracted  ;  but  collecting  himself  he  bade 
us  both  prepare  to  go  out  with  him  in  the  carriage,  and 
to  make  preparations  for  a  long  journey.  When  we 
asked  the  cause  of  this  sudden  mandate,  he  told  us  that 
Mr.  Mason  had  returned  from  California,  and  was  await- 
ing in  a  small  village  in  Pennsylvania,  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  venture  nearer  New  York  until  some  unjust  as- 
persions that  had  been  cast  upon  his  character  were 
satisfactorily  cleared  up. 

"  It  was  known  to  me  that  Mason  had,  or  was  said  to 
have  committed  some  faux  pas,  the  nature  of  which  I  Avas 
ignorant  of;  for  Mrs.  Mason,  poor,  fond,  and  cruelly  de- 
ceived woman,  could  never  bear  any  allusion  to  the  sub- 
ject, and  still  hoped  and  believed  that  the  wretch  who 
had  deceived  her,  was  innocent  of  this  last  wrong,  and 
therefore,  I  did  not  discredit  the  story;  and  as  for  Mrs. 
Mason,  as  soon  as  she  heard  that  the  villain  she  still 
called  her  husband,  was  waiting  to  receive  her,  she  made 
no  further  objections.  Poor  creature,  she  whispered  to  me, 
as  she  passed  up  stairs  to  attire  herself  for  the  unexpect- 
ed journey,  "  won't  Mason  be  proud  of  the  boy  ?"  She 

asked  P to  wait  a  short  time,  as  she  expected  her 

mother  to  pay  her  a  visit ;  but,  at  the  mention  of  this,  I 
observed  a  scowl  upon  his  countenance,  which,  however, 
quickly  passed  away ;  but  he  said  that  it  could  not  be ; 
that  he  must  be  off  immediately ;  and,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, he  proceeded  with  great  alacrity  to  pack  up  certain 
luggage  to  take  with  us,  saying  that  he  would  save  us  all 
trouble  in  that  respect,  and  that,  as  regarded  Mrs.  Mason's 
mother,  he  would  take  measures  to  apprise  her  of  our 
whereabouts  in  Pennsylvania,  and  that  she  should  follow 
us  thither. 

"  We  went  to  our  rooms,  packed  our  clothes  hurriedly, 
and  dressed  ourselves  for  the  journey,  and  were  hurried 
into  the  coach.  John,  the  coachman,  whom  I  now  believe 
to  have  been  a  creature  of  P.'s,  being  already  seated  on 
the  box. 

"  We  travelled  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  then 


STKAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  321 

stopped  at  a  way-side  inn,  where  we  remained  during  the 
night.  On  the  following  morning  we  found  a  hired  con- 
veyance waiting  for  us,  and  our  own  carriage,  with  the 
greater  portion  of  the  luggage,  gone. 

"  We  expressed  surprise  at  this ;  but  P said  he 

had  sent  it  on  in  advance,  and  that  we  should  be  more 
comfortable,  and  should  attract  less  observation  by  trav- 
elling in  a  quiet,  unassuming  manner. 

"  That  night  we  stopped  again  at  a  wayside  inn,  and 
during  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  strug- 
gling in  Mrs.  Mason's  room.  1  became  alarmed  and 

awakened  P ,  who  arose,  and  went  out  of  the  room, 

but  shortly  returned,  telling  me  to  go  to  sleep  again,  for 
nothing  was  the  matter.  He  struck  a  light  and  lit  a  cigar, 
and  sat  for  some  time  smoking  at  the  window — gazing 
anxiously  into  the  road.  His  face,  I  thought,  looked 
pale,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  was  unwell ;  but  he,  rather 
shortly,  bade  me  go  to  sleep. 

"  In  the  morning  when  I  awoke,  P was  up  and 

dressed.  He  told  me  to  rise  and  dress  myself  quickly, 
for  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  be  off. 

"  When  dressed,  and  ready  to  leave  the  room,  I  missed 
my  rings  and  a  locket  that  I  had  always  been  accustomed 
to  wear,  which  I  had  laid  on  the  dressing-table  when  re- 
tiring to  rest  for  the  night. 

I  asked  P for  them,  and  he  replied  that  they  were 

safe  enough  ;  that  he  thought  it  folly  to  wear  such  valu- 
able jewelry  while  travelling,  and  that  he  had  put  them 
into  his  valise. 

"  When  we  went  down  stairs,  I  missed  Mrs.  Mason  and 
her  child,  and  asked  if  they  were  well,  and  whether  they 
were  coming  to  breakfast  or  not. 

"  P replied  that  Mason  had  sent  another  convey 

ance  for  them  early  in  the  morning,  and  that  we  must 
hurry  away,  and  get  breakfast  elsewhere,  for  we  were  al- 
ready late.  I  would  have  remonstrated,  for  I  felt  hungry, 

but  P 's  manner  was   so   brusque — so  different  to 

what  I  had  ever  seen  it  before — that  I  felt  frightened,  and 
he  pushed  me  roughly  into  the  carriage. 

14* 


822  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

"  For  a  time  I  was  dreadfully  alarmed,  but  as  we  pro- 
ceeded, my  courage  returned,  and  assuming  a  cheerful 
tone  of  voice,  I  asked  if  we  should  shortly  rejoin  Mrs 
Mason. 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  was  P 's  reply,  now  brutally  ut- 
tered ;  for  at  last  he  had  thrown  off  all  semblance  of  kind- 
ness. 

"  '  What  ails  you,  dear?'  said  I,  half  alarmed  by  some 
vague  fears  respecting  myself,  and  half  fearful  that  he 
was  unwell,  and  I  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck.  He 
pushed  me  roughly  from  him,  and  I  burst  into  tears. 

"  He  bade  me  leave  off  snivelling,  and  became  so  bru- 
tal in  his  conduct,  that  my  dormant  courage  was  aroused, 
and  I  boldly  told  him  that  I  suspected  some  foul  play 
had  been  going  on  with  regard  to  us  both,  and  especially 
with  regard  to  Mrs.  Mason,  in  whose  apartment  I  had 
heard  the  singular  disturbance  in  the  night. 

"  As  soon  as  I  had  uttered  this,  he  rose  from  his  seat 
and  caught  my  throat,  saying,  with  a  fearful  imprecation, 
that  it  would  be  better  at  once  to  serve  me  as  Mrs.  Mason 
and  her  child  had  been  served.  He  suddenly  checked 
himself,  and  sat  moodily  silent.  At  length  he  said : 

"  '  Adele,  will  you  make  over  to  me  as  your  rightful 
husband,  the  property  you  possess,  and  we  will  go  to 
Europe  together  ?' 

"  '  No,'  I  boldly  replied,  for  I  felt  sure  now  that  some 
dire  wickedness  was  contemplated,  and  I  repeated  again, 
1  No,  not  though  you  murder  me  as  you  have  Mrs.  Mason 
and  her  child.'  I  said  this  vaguely,  but  as  the  words  fell 
from  my  lips,  his  countenance  turned  dreadfully  pale  and 
his  features  appeared  to  be  distorted  as  with  mental  and 
bodily  agony.  I  was  frightened,  and  remained  silent, 
determining  to  leave  him  at  the  first  place  at  which  we 
stopped.  At  last  we  reached  this  house,  and  he  sprang 
from  the  carriage,  and  I  was  lifted  to  the  ground  by  a 
.stranger,  and  borne  into  a  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
immediately  locked,  and  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  car- 
riage rolling  rapidly  away. 

"  How  long  I  remained  thus  alone,  I  cannot  say — foi 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  823 

my  nerves  were  quite  unstrung,  and  I  fell  into  a  stupor 
from  which  I  was  aroused  by  an  elderly  man  of  most  un- 
prepossessing appearance,  who  asked  me  if  I  was  better, 
and  whether  I  wanted  anything  ?  I  told  him  that  I  did 
not,  and  asked  where  I  was. 

" '  In  a  mad  house,'  he  replied,  '  where  you  will  b< 
treated  ill  or  well,  according  to  your  behavior.' 

"  Again  I  swooned  away,  and  since  then  my  life  has 
been  one  continuous  round  of  monotony.  I  seldom  see 
the  proprietor — neither  does  he  nor  will  Martha  converse 
with  me,  except  upon  trivial  matters ;  though  I  do  not 
believe  the  latter  to  be  naturally  a  hard-hearted  woman.  I 

know  that  P 's  object  was  to  obtain  my  property  and 

all  my  ready  money,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so ;  but  I  will  work  night  and  day  for 
my  living  ;  I  will  do  anything  to  get  clear  of  this  dread- 
ful place." 

"  And  you  shall  get  clear,"  said  I.  "  If  I  live,  of  that 
rest  assured.  But  tell  me,  what  are  your  reasons  for 
thinking  that  Mrs.  Mason  and  her  child  came  to  a  violent 
death?" 

"  The  expression  in  P 's  countenance  when  I  men- 
tioned it,  more  in  a  fit  of  passion  than  in  any  belief  that 
such  had  been  the  case  in  reality,"  was  her  reply.  "  Also, 
his  own  half-muttered  expression,  previously  to  my  men- 
tioning the  horrible  words." 

At  this  moment  I  saw  the  man  who  has  been  already 
alluded  to,  emerge  from  the  copse,  and  I  intimated  this 

to  Mrs.  P ,  assuring  her  of  my  untiring  efforts  in  her 

behalf,  and  also  telling  her  that  I  would  see  her  again 
on  the  earliest  opportunity — the  next  day  if  possible. 

I  then  took  my  departure,  and  on  gaining  a  position 
where,  unobserved  myself,  I  could  gain  a  view  of  the 

grounds,  I  saw  that  Miss had  been  joined  by  the 

female  keeper. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

AFTER  much  consideration  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
to  obtain  an  entrance  into  the  private  lunatic  asylum,  by 
making  a  feint  that  I  had  a  boarder  to  introduce  to  the 
keeper,  and  then  I  determined  to  ask  permission  to  see 
the  accommodations,  and  if  by  that  means  I  should  come 

in  contact  with  Miss  T ,  to  claim  her  acquaintance 

and  insist  upon  her  release.  "  At  any  rate,"  thought  I, 
*'  after  witnessing  the  method  of  discipline  preserved  in 

the  house,  whether  I  see  Miss  T or  not,  I  shall  be 

better  able  to  come  to  some  definite  conclusion  as  to  the 
most  advisable  course  to  take  to  effect  my  object." 

Accordingly  the  following  day  I  addressed  a  note  to 
the  proprietor,  cautiously  worded,  so  as  to  imply  that 
there  was  some  mystery  behind  it,  stating  that  I  had 
heard  of  the  excellent  character  of  his  private  establish- 
ment, and  that  I  was  greatly  troubled  about  a  female 
friend  whom  some  persons  considered  to  be  insane,  and 
who  was  possessed  of  considerable  property  in  her  own 
right.  Therefore  I  would  take  the  liberty  of  calling  at 
his  establishment  on  the  next  morning. 

There  was  a  mixture  of  truth  and  equivocation  in  this 
statement,  that  many  of  my  readers  may  consider  was 
unwarrantable  on  my  part;  but  they  must  recollect  that 
without  some  subterfuge,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  me  to  have  obtained  admission  to  the  infamous  den, 
and  then  I  was  troubled  about  a  lady  whom  some  people 
at  least,  professed  to  consider  insane,  and  who  was  pos- 
sessed of  considerable  property  in  her  own  right.  Where 
I  went  beyond  the  limits  of  truth;  where  I  attempted  to 
deceive,  I  can  only  hope  that  the  end  in  view,  may,  un- 
der the  circumstances,  justify  the  deed. 

True  to  my  appointment,  I  called  at  the  house  about 
nine  o'clock  on  the  day  specified,  and  upon  stating  my 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  325 

name,  and  mentioning  that  it  was  I  who  had  addressed 
a  letter  to  the  proprietor  the  previous  day,  I  was  shown 
into  the  parlor,  where  I  found  that  worthy  gentleman 
reading  a  newspaper. 

The  fellow  was  one  of  those  men  who  are  remarkable 
for  massive,  inanimate  features.  At  a  first  glance,  he  was 
not  ill-looking ;  but  on  examining  his  beetle-brows,  which 
met  in  a  mass  of  black,  thick  hair  across  his  face,  and  on 
watching  the  dull,  selfish,  cruel  eyes  that  they  overhung, 
dead  as  they  were  to  every  generous  emotion,  and  inca- 
pable of  kindling  even  at  cruelty  itself,  it  was  impossible 
for  any  man  in  the  habit  of  observing  nature  closely,  not 
to  feel  that  a  brutal  ruffian,  obstinate,  indurated  and  un- 
scrupulous, was  before  him.  His  forehead  was  low,  and 
the  whole  shape  of  his  head,  such  as  would  induce  an 
intelligent  phrenologist  to  pronounce  him  at  once  a  thief 
and  a  murderer. 

After  a  survey  or  two,  I  felt  my  blood  boil  at  the  con- 
templation of  his  very  visage,  which  was  at  once  plausi- 
ble and  diabolical  in  expression ;  but  it  was  essentially 
necessary  that  I  should  disguise  these  feelings  of  abhor- 
rence, and  endeavor  to  obtain  the  confidence  of  the  man. 
Therefore,  after  some  preliminary  chat,  I  said : — 

"  Your  establishment,  sir,  is  admirably  situated  here. 
It  is  remote  and  isolated,  and  these,  I  presume,  are  ad- 
vantages?" 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,"  replied  the  proprietor — "  the  further 
we  remove  our  patients  from  human  society,  the  better. 
The  exhibition  of  reason,  has,  in  general,  a  bad  effect 
upon  the  insane." 

"Upon  what  principle  do  you  account  for  that?"  I 
asked.  "  To  me,  it  would  appear  that  the  reverse  of  the 
proposition  ought  to  hold  true." 

"  That  may  be,"  he  replied ;  "  but  no  man  can  form  a 
correct  opinion  of  insane  persons,  who  has  not  mingled 
with  them,  or  had  them  under  his  care.  The  contiguity 
of  reason — I  mean  in  the  persons  of  those  who  approach 
them — always  exercises  a  dangerous  influence  upon  luna- 
tics ;  and  on  this  account,  I  sometimes  place  those  who 


826  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

are  less  insane,  as  keepers    over   such  as   are  decided 
Ij  so." 

"  Does  that  not  seem  very  like  setting  the  blind  tc 
lead  the  blind?" 

"  No,"  replied  my  companion  with  a  heavy,  heartless 
laugh,  "  your  analogy  fails ;  it  is  rather  like  setting  a 
man  with  one  eye  to  guide  another  who  has  none." 

"  But  why  should  not  a  man  with  two  eyes  guide  the 
blind  man  better  ?" 

"  Because  the  consciousness  that  there  is  but  the  one 
eye  between  them  will  make  him  proceed  more  cau- 
tiously." 

"  But  that  in  the  blind  is  an  act  of  reason,"  replied  I, 
"  which  cannot  be  applied  to  the  insane,  in  whom  reason 
is  deficient." 

"But  where  reason  does  not  exist,"  said  the  proprietor 
of  the  establishment,  "  we  must  regulate  them  by  their 
passions." 

"  By  the  exercise  of  which  passion  do  you  gain  the 
greatest  ascendency  over  them  ?" 

"  By  fear,  of  course.  We  can  do  nothing,  at  least 
very  little,  without  inspiring  terror." 

"  Ah  !"  thought  I,  "  I  have  now  got  the  key  to  his  con- 
duct !"  "  But,  sir,"  I  continued,  "  we  can  never  love  and 
fear  the  same  object  at  the  same  time." 

"  True  enough,  sir,"  replied  the  ruffian,  "  but  who 
could  or  ought  to  calculate  upon  the  attachment  of  a  mad- 
man ?  Boys  are  corrected  more  frequently  than  men,  be- 
cause their  reason  is  not  developed ;  and  those  in  whom 
it  does  not  exist,  or  in  whom  it  has  been  impaired,  must 
be  subject  to  the  same  discipline.  Terror,  besides,  is  the 
principle  upon  which  reason  itself,  and  all  society,  are 
governed." 

"  But  suppose  I  had  a  sister,  now,  or  a  relative,  might 
I  not  hesitate  to  place  her  in  an  establishment  conducted 
on  principles  which  I  condemn  ?" 

"  As  to  that,  sir,"  replied  the  fellow,  who,  expecting  a 
patient,  feared  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  "  our  system  is 
an  adaptable  one ;  at  least,  our  application  of  it  varies 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  327 

according  to  circumstances.  As  our  first  object  is  cure, 
we  must  necessarily  allow  ourselves  considerable  latitude 
of  experiment,  until  we  hit  upon  the  right  key.  This 
being  found,  the  process  of  recovery,  when  it  is  possible, 
may  be  conducted  with  as  much  mildness  as  the  absence 
of  reason  will  permit.  We  are  mild  when  we  can,  and 
severe  only  when  we  must." 

"  Shuffling  scoundrel,"  thought  I,  "  I  perceive  in  this 
language,  the  double  dealing  of  an  unprincipled  villain. " 

Determined,  however,  to  keep  my  counsel  as  long  as  I 
thought  such  a  course  advisable,  I  changed  the  current 
of  conversation,  and  said  : 

"  Your  establishment  is  exclusively  for  females,  I  pre- 
sume ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  proprietor;  "I  have  both  males 
and  females  ;  more,  in  fact,  of  the  former  than  the  latter ; 
but  they  are  kept  widely  separate.  A  person  who  has 
not  been  over  my  place  would  not  have  the  slightest  con- 
ception of  its  magnitude.  From  the  road,  when  a  glimpse 
of  it  can  be  seen,  it  looks  by  no  means  an  extensive 
building,  but  it  is  very  large.  The  male  and  female  pa- 
tients, even  when  convalescent,  do  not  know  of  the  prox- 
imity of  the  one  to  the  other,  nor  even  that  the  opposite 
sexes  are  within  the  same  establishment ;  nay,  more  than 
that,  some  of  the  females  are,  for  certain  reasons,  separa- 
ted from  the  rest,  and  while  they  are  allowed  more  liberty 
than  the  common  herd,  they  are  kept  ignorant  that  others 
besides  themselves  are  here  confined." 

"  That  accounts,"  thought  I,  "  for  the  remark  of  Miss 

T ,  that  only  three  ladies  were  confined  here  just 

now  ;  but  what  is  the  reason — what  are  the  certain  rea- 
sons wherefore  she  is  allowed  more  liberty  than  the  com- 
mon herd  T"1 

"  Would  you  have  any  objection,  sir,"  inquired  I, 
"  that  I  should  look  through  your  establishment  ?" 

"  I  can  conduct  you  through  the  convalescent  wards," 
replied  the  proprietor  ;  "  but,  as  I  have  said,  we  find  that 
the  appearance  of  strangers — which  is  what  I  mean  by 
the  contiguity  of  reason — is  attended  by  very  bad,  and 


328  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

sometimes  deplorable  consequences.  Under  all  consid 
erations,  it  retards  a  cure,  under  others  occasions  a  re- 
lapse, and  in  some  accelerates  the  malady  so  rapidly  that 
it  becomes  hopeless.  You  may  see  the  convalescent 
wards,  however,  if  you  wish." 

"  You  will  oblige  me,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  if  you  will  remain  here  a  mo- 
ment, I  will  send  a  gentleman  who  will  accompany  you, 
and  explain  the  characters  of  some  of  the  patients,  should 
you  desire  it,  and  also  the  cause  of  their  respective  mal- 
adies." 

The  proprietor  then  disappeared,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
a  mild,  intelligent,  gentlemanly  man,  of  modest  and  un- 
assuming appearance,  presented  himself,  and  said  he 
would  feel  much  pleasure  in  showing  me  over  the  con- 
valescent wards. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  place  before  my  readers  any 
lengthened  description  of  this  gloomy  temple  of  departed 
reason.  Every  one  who  enters  a  lunatic  asylum,  public 
or  private,  for  the  first  time,  must  feel  a  wild  indescriba- 
ble emotion,  such  as  he  never  before  experienced,  and 
which  amounts  to  an  extraordinary  sense  of  solemnity 
and  fear.  Nor  do  the  sensations  of  the  stranger  rest 
here.  He  feels  that  he  is  surrounded  by  something  sa- 
cred as  well  as  melancholy ;  something  that  creates  at 
once  pity,  reverence,  and  awe ;  indeed,  so  strongly  anti- 
thetical to  each  other  are  his  impressions,  that  a  kind  of 
confusion  arises  in  his  mind,  and  he  begins  to  fear  that 
his  own  senses  have  been  affected  by  the  atmosphere  of 
the  place.  That  a  shock  takes  place  which  slightlydisar- 
ranges  the  faculty  of  thought,  and  generates  strong,  but 
erroneous  impressions,  is  still  more  clearly  established  by 
the  fact  that  the  visitor,  for  a  considerable  time  after 
leaving  an  asylum,  can  scarcely  rid  himself  of  the  belief 
that  every  person  he  meets  is  insane. 

I  was  perfectly  astonished,  as  I  walked  along  by  the 
side  of  my  conductor,  at  the  size  of  the  building.  For 
my  own  part,  I  would  much  rather  have  visited  the  fe- 
male wards  and  so  have  prosecuted  my  aim  at  once  and 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  329 

without  delay !  but  the  gentleman  who  conducted  me 
told  me  that  he  could  not  enter  the  female  wards ;  but 
that,  after  having  shown  me  the  male  ward  he  would  con- 
vey me  back  to  the  proprietor,  or  the  "  doctor,"  as  he 
called  him,  who,  he  had  no  doubt,  would  depute  a  nurse 
to  accompany  me  through  the  female  wards  ;  so  I  was 
compelled  to  make  the  tour  of  che  whole  building,  and, 
to  tell  the  truth,  a  sort  of  hideous  fascination  began  to 
create  a  desire  to  witness  all  that  was  to  be  seen — the 
same  fascination  that  leads  us  to  contemplate  any  scene 
of  danger  and  horror,  although  at  the  same  time  we 
sicken  at  the  sight — we  fain  would,  but  we  cannot,  with- 
draw our  eyes  from  the  spectacle. 

As  perhaps  but  few  of  my  readers  have  visited  the 
interior  of  a  lunatic  asylum,  I  may  be  excused  the  slight 
digression  from  the  thread  of  my  narrative  in  describing 
this  place — the  more  especially  as  it  is  after  all  in  some 
measure  connected  with  it. 

On  entering  the  long  room  in  which  the  convalescents 
were  assembled  I  felt,  in  the  silence  of  the  patients,  and 
in  their  vague  and  fantastic  movements,  that  I  was  in  a 
position  where  novelty,  in  general  the  source  of  plea- 
sure was  associated  only  with  pain.  The  startling  looks 
of  the  inmates,  the  absence  of  interest  in  some  instances, 
and  its  intensity  in  others,  at  the  appearance  of  strangers, 
without  any  intelligent  motive  in  either  case,  produced  a 
feeling  that  seemed  to  bear  the  character  of  a  disagree- 
able dream. 

"  All  the  patients  here,"  said  my  conductor,  "  are  not 
absolutely  in  a  state  of  convalescence.  A  great  number 
of  them  are ;  but  we  also  allow  such  confined  lunatics  as 
are  harmless,  to  mingle  with  them.  There  is  scarcely 
a  profession,  or  a  passion,  or  a  vanity  in  life,  which  has 
not  here  its  representative.  Law,  religion,  physic,  the 
arts,  the  sciences,  all  contribute  their  share  to  this  melan- 
choly picture  gallery.  Avarice,  love,  ambition,  pride, 
jealousy,  having  overgrown  the  force  of  reason,  are  here, 
as  its  ideal  skeletons,  wild  and  gigantic — fretting,  gam- 
boling, moping,  grinning,  raving,  and  vaporing — each 


330  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

wrapped  in  its  own  VISION  and  indifferent  to  all  the  in- 
fluence of  the  collateral  faculties.  There,  now,  is  a  man 
moping  about,  the  picture  of  stolidity;  observe  how  his 
heavy  head  hangs  down  until  his  chin  rests  upon  his 
breast  bone,  his  mouth  open  and  almost  dribbling.  That 
man,  sir,  so  un  poetical  and  idiotic  in  appearance,  ima- 
gines himself  the  author  of  '  Beattie's  Minstrels.'  He  is 
a  Scotchman.  J  will  speak  to  him  : 

"  Come  here,  Sandy ;  speak  to  this  gentleman." 

Sandy  without  raising  his  lack-lustre  eyes  came  over 
and  replied 

"  Aye,  aye!  I'm  the  author  of  '  Batty 's  Menstril,'  and 
having  uttered  this  piece  of  intelligence,  he  shuffled 
across  the  room,  dragging  one  foot  after  another  at  about 
a  quarter  of  a  minute  per  step.  Never  was  poor  Beattie 
so  libellously  represented. 

"Do  you  see  that  round-faced,  good-humored  looking 
man,  with  a  cut-away  farmer's  coat  on  ?"  said  my  con- 
ductor. "  He's  a  wealthy  and  respectable  farmer  from 
Alabama,  who  imagines  he's  a  saint,  and  has  the  power 

of  working  miracles.     His  name  is  G .     Come  here, 

G » 

Gr came  over,  and  looking  at  me  earnestly,  said : 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am,  stranger?  No,  I'll  go  bail 
you  don't." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  do  not;  perhaps  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  inform  me." 

"  I'm  Saint  Barnabas,"  replied  the  man,  "  and,  stran- 
ger, I'll  give  you  a  piece  of  advice.  Get  out  of  this  as 
soon  as  possible,  or  I'll  work  a  miracle  upon  you." 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  what  will  you  do?" 

"  I'll  turn  you  into  a  four-legged  ass,  as  you  are  a  two 
legged  one  now,  for  venturing  into  such  a  place  as  this. 
You  are  a  railroad  director  too." 

The  poor  man  had  gone  deranged,  it  appeared,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  death  of  his  wife  who  was  killed  by  a 
railroad  collision. 

u  There  is  another  man,"  said  my  conductor,  "  that 
tittle  man  with  an  angry  face.  He  is  a  shoemaker  who 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  831 

went  mad  on  the  score  of  humanity,  through  reading 
tracts  against  cruelty  to  animals.  He  took  a  strong  feel- 
ing of  resentment  against  all  men  who  had  flat  feet,  and 
refused  to  make  shoes  for  them." 

"  How  was  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  my  conductor,  "  he  said  that  they 
murdered  all  the  cockroaches,  not  giving  them  even  a 
chance  of  escape  when  they  put  their  feet  down.  He 
looks  upon  every  man  with  flat  feet  as  an  inhuman  vil- 
lain who  ought  to  have  his  feet  chopped  off  and  beg  for 
charity  upon  his  stumps." 

"  Who  is  that  broad-shouldered  man  dressed  in  rusty 
black,  with  the  red  hair?"  I  asked. 

"He  went  mad,''  replied  my  conductor,  "on  a  princi- 
ple of  religious  charity.  He  is  a  Methodist  preacher  who 
being  sent  for  in  a  hurry  to  baptize  a  child  of  an  Epis- 
copalian, strangled  it,  saying  that  by  so  doing  he  had 
saved  one  soul  from  being  brought  up  in  error  and  sent 
it  direct  to  heaven." 

'  You  are  not  without  poets  here,  of  course  ?"  said  I. 

"  We  have,  unfortunately,"  replied  the  conductor, 
"  more  individuals  of  that  class  than  we  can  manage. 
They  ought  to  have  an  asylum  for  themselves.  There's 
a  fellow  now  in  the  tattered  jacket  and  night  cap,  who 
has  written  a  heroic  poem  in  eighty-six  thousand  verses, 
which  he  entitles  '  Balaam's  Ass,'  or,  '  The  Great  Unsad- 
dled.' Would  you  like  to  speak  to  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  no,"  I  replied.  "  Keep  me 
from  the  poets." 

"  There  is  another  of  the  species,"  replied  the  gentle- 
man, "  the  thin,  red-eyed  fellow  who  grinds  his  teeth. 
He  fancies  himself  a  wit  and  a  satirist,  and  is  the  author 
of  an  unpublished  poem  called  '  The  Smoking  Dunghill,' 
or  '  Parnassus  in  a  Fume.'  He  published  several  things 
which  were  justly  attacked  on  account  of  their  dullness, 
and  he  is  now  in  an  awful  fury  against  all  the  poets  of 
the  day,  to  every  one  of  whom  he  has  given  an  appro- 
priate position  on  the  sublime  pedestal,  which  he  has,  as 
it  were,  with  his  own  hands,  created  for  them.  He  cer- 


SS2  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

tainly  ought  to  be  the  best  constructor  of  a  dunghill  in 
the  world  for  he  deals  in  nothing  but  dirt.  He  refuses 
to  wash  his  hands  because,  he  says,  it  would  disqualify 
him  from  giving  the  last  touches  to  his  poem  and  his 
characters. 

"Have  you  philosophers  as  well  as  poets?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh  Lord !  yes,  sir.  We  have  poetical  philosophers, 
and  philosophical  poets;  but  I  protest  to  Heaven  the 
wisdom  of  Solomon  or  of  an  Archangel  could  not  decide 
the  difference  between  their  folly.  You  see  that  man 
walking  to  and  fro,  apparently  in  deep  and  anxious 
thought.  There  is  deep  speculation  in  his  eye,  and  yet 
his  glances  are  restless,  and  he  frequently  starts  as 
though  with  some  novel  fancy.  That  man,  sir,  has  gone 
mad  through  preaching  'isms;'  he  has  been  in  turns  a 
spiritualist  and  a  materialist,  an  abolitionist  and  a  social- 
ist, and  he  now  is  possessed  of  an  idea  that  the  millennium 
is  at  hand  and  only  waiting  for  an  universal  earthly  head 
to  guide  and  govern  it.  He  is  the  man  ;  but  this  world 
won't  believe  him,  and  therefore  the  millennium  is  indefi- 
nitely postponed." 

"  Who  are  those  two  men  dressed  in  black,  walking 
arm-in-arm  ?"  asked  I ;  "  they  look  very  much  like 
lawyers." 

"And  so  they  are,"  replied  my  conductor,  "  two  legal 
controversialists,  who,  when  they  were  at  large,  created 
by  their  attacks  each  upon  the  legal  knowledge  of  the 
other, — each  setting  the  residents  of  the  place  where 
they  lived  against  each  other,  more  ill-will  than  they 
could  remove,  were  they  to  become  philanthropists  and 
live  to  the  age  of  Methuselah.  It  is  impossible  to  de- 
scribe the  mischief  they  were  guilty  of.  Ever  since  they 
came  here,  however,  they  are  like  brothers.  They  were 
placed  in  the  same  room,  each  in  a  strong  straight- 
waistcoat,  for  the  space  of  three  months  ;  but  upon  being 
allowed  to  walk  about,  they  became  sworn  friends  and 
now  amuse  themselves  more  than  any  other  two  in  the 
establishment.  They  indulge  in  immoderate  fits  of 
laughter,  look  each  other  knowingly  in  the  face,  wink, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  333 

and  place  their  fore-finger  on  the  side  of  their  noses,  after 
which  their  mirth  bursts  out  afresh  and  they  laugh  until 
the  tears  run  down  their  cheeks." 

By  this  time  my  curiosity  was  gratified.  I  could  get 
no  information  in  this  department  respecting  Miss  Tn 
and  I  hinted  to  my  conductor  that  I  should  like  to  see 
the  females  of  the  establishment. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  you  will  have  to  ask  the 
proprietor,  who  may  perhaps  refuse  you,  for  he  is  very 
particular  whom  he  admits  to  visit  the  females ;  but  (mark 
me,  sir — I  say  harkee — you  have  humanity  in  your  face — ) 
I  will  tell  you  a  secret.  The  proprietor  is  a  villain — that 
is — entre  nous — but  mum's  the  word  between  us." 

"I  am  sorry,"  1  replied,  "  to  hear  such  a  character  of 
him  from  you  who  should  know  him  well." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  gentleman,  "  let  that  pass — 
verbum  sap.  And  now  pray  tell  me,  when  were  you  last 
at  the  opera  ?" 

"  Not  for  some  months,"  I  replied. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  Jenny  Lind  shake  ?' 

"  Yes,  I  had  that  pleasure  on  the  occasion  of  a  late 
visit  to  Europe,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  sir,  I'm  delighted  that  you  have  heard  her, 
for  there  is  but  one  man  living  who  can  rival  her  in  the 
shake,  and,  sir,  you  have  the  honor  of  addressing  that 
man." 

This  was  said  so  mildly,  calmly,  rationally,  and  with 
that  gentlemanlike  air  of  undoubted  respectability,  which 
gives  to  an  assertion  such  an  impress  of  truth,  that,  con- 
fused as  I  was  by  what  I  had  seen,  I  found  it  rather 
difficult  at  the  moment  to  draw  the  line,  especially  in  such 
society,  between  a  sane  man  and  an  insane  one. 

"Would  you  wish,  sir,"  said  my  guide,  "to  hear  a 
specimen  of  my  powers  ?" 

"If  you  please,"  replied  I,  "  provided  you  will  confine 
yourself  to  the  shake." 

The  gentleman  then  commenced  a  squall — so  tuneless, 
wild,  jarring  and  unmusical,  that  1  could  not  help 


384  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

^> 

smiling  at  the  monomaniac,  for  such  I  at  once  perceived 
him  to  be. 

"  You  seem  to  like  that,  sir,*'  he  observed,  apparently 
much  gratified ;  "  but,  I  thought  as  much,  sir — you  are 
a  man  of  taste." 

"  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion,"  said  I,  "  that  Jenny  Lind 
has  never,  in  her  happiest  efforts,  given  such  a  shake  as 
that.  By-the-bye,  there  is  some  talk  of  her  visiting  this 
country  shortly.  I  heard  her,  as  I  have  said,  in  London 
a  year  or  two  ago ;  I  shall  hear  her  again,  and  then  I 
shall  be  better  able  to  institute  a  comparison  between 
your  vocal  powers." 

"  That  is  it,  sir — that  is  it,"  said  the  gentleman,  myste- 
riously ;  "  they  fear  that  I  shall  outvie  her,  and  for  that 
reason  they  have  confined  me  here,  among  these  mad 
men,  and  now,  sir,  I  wish  you  farewell.  We  shall  have 
another  shake  in  honor  of  your  excellent  judgment ;  but 
it  will  be  a  shake  of  the  hand.  Sir  you  are  a  polished 
and  most  accomplished  gentleman." 

As  I  walked  towards  the  portion  of  the  house  in  which 
the  proprietor  resided,  my  ears  were  greeted  with  loud 
blasphemies;  for  I  passed  by  the  ward  in  which  the 
most  furious  lunatics  were  confined.  I  looked  in  at  an 
open  grating,  and  immediately  a  shout  arose  from  a 
dozen  raving  maniacs,  who  were  strapped  to  chairs,  and 
who  represented  themselves  to  be  potentates  and  princes 
of  every  degree.  Here  sat  the  representative  of  the  em 
peror  of  Kussia,  with  a  straight  waistcoat  upon  him,  to 
keep  him  quiet — such  as  the  real  emperor  would  be  all 
the  better  for.  There  was  the  Pope  of  Eome,  challenging 
Henry  VIII.  to  settle  the  dispute  between  the  Catholic 
and  Protestant  churches,  with  a  bout  of  fisticuffs.  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte  in  the  person  of  an  apish-looking  indi- 
vidual, with  immense  moustaches,  was  singing  a  song,  to 
the  tune  of  "  Bob  and  Joan,"  the  refrain  of  which  was 
something  like — "  I'm  not  a  Jew — I'm  not  a  Jew  ;  but  J 
never  could  like  '  Ham  ;'  " — and  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury offered  to  pledge  me  his  rnitre,  if  I  would  bring 
him  a  good  cigar  and  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  Some- 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  335 

times  a  frightful  yell  from  the  whole  body,  simultane- 
ously, would  drown  every  other  sound  ;  and  this  would 
be  succeeded  by  maniacal  bursts  of  laughter.  I  with- 
drew, sickened,  disgusted,  and  only  just  in  time. — 
For  as  I  moved  my  head,  an  individual  who  sat 
near  the  grating,  and  whom  I  had  not  previously  per- 
ceived, would  have  thrust  his  forefinger,  armed  with  a 
nail  as  strong  and  pointed  as  the  claws  of  an  eagle,  right 
into  my  left  eye,  had  I  remained  one  moment  longer.  I 
entered  the  parlor. 

"Well,  sir,  "said  the  proprietor,  "  have  you  seen  the 
melancholy  sight?" 

"  I  have,  sir,  in  part,  and  a  melancholy  one,  indeed,  it 
is  ;  but,  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  see  the  females." 

The  man  looked  at  me  keenly,  with  his  dull  grey 
eyes : — 

"  We  seldom  allow  visitors  to  see  the  females,  unless 
they  come  on  business." 

This  was  said  with  a  peculiar  emphasis,  and  at  the 
same  time  I  observed  a  cunning  leer  in  those  cruel  eyes. 

"  I  have  come  on  business,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  wish  to 
see  how  the  females  are  treated.  I  suppose  when  once 
in  your  care,  there  is  no  fear  of  their  escaping  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  my  dear  sir.     None  at  all." 

"Not  even  if  they  show  no  symptoms  of  insanity," 
said  I,  "  because,  sometimes  tlie  insanity  under  which  they 
labor  is  only  observable  to  their  friends ." 

"1  understand  you,  my  dear  sir,  perfectly  well,"  said 
the  ruffian,  for  I  had  emphasized  the  last  words. 

"  No,  sir,  there  is  no  fear  of  their  escaping,  and  as  to 
their  treatment,  it  depends  upon  the  amount  paid  for 
their  board.  Some  gentlemen  who  wish  to  get  quit  of 
insane  female  relatives  and  friends,  still  have  a  lingering 
affection  for  them  and  come  down  handsomely  for  their 
keep.  Then  they  are  well  treated,  otherwise  they  are 
put  with  the  maniacs  in  another  ward,  and  then  they 
soon  get  as  mad  as  need  be  themselves.  You  see,  sir,  I 
am  speaking  plainly  to  you.  Come,  I  will  call  the  keeper 
you  shall  see  my  lady  boarders." 


336  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

The  villain  1     I  conld  scarcely  restrain  rnj  tongue 
but  policy  held  me  under  restraint,  and  I  accompanied 
the  female  keeper,  who  was  the  very  woman  I  had  seen 

in  the  garden  with  Miss  T ,  round   the   woman's 

ward. 

There  were  not  nearly  so  many  females  as  there  were 
males  and  the  same  species  of  insanity  appeared  to  affect 
them  all;  that  is  to  say,  either  unhappy  or  misplaced 
love,  or  pride  of  dress  and  station,  had  reduced  them  to 
the  melancholy  condition  they  were  in.  However,  on 
the  whole,  the  scene  was  not  so  repulsive  as  it  was  in  the 
male  ward  ;  the  females  seemed  more  reconciled  to  their 
situation,  and  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  it  was  hardly 
possible  except  by  close  scrutiny  to  detect  insanity — so 
quiet  was  their  bearing. 

"Here,"  said  the  conductress,  after  having  crossed  a 
large  space  of  ground  which  separated  the  large  wards 
from  the  private  apartments  of  the  proprietor  ? — ''  Here, 
in  these  rooms  we  keep  such  ladies  as  have  friends  who 
pay  well  for  their  board;  and  occasionally  they  are  al- 
lowed to  walk  with  me  in  the  front  garden,  provided 
they  are  quiet.  I  will  take  you  into  the  apartments 
presently,  if  you  will  seat  yourself  here  and  wait  awhile, 
while  I  go  and  prepare  the  ladies  for  the  reception  of  a 
visitor." 

So  saying,  the  woman  left  me  for  about  ten  minutes 
and  then  returned  and  requested  me  to  follow  her.  I  did 

so,  in  the  full  expectation  of  seeing  Miss  T ,  but  there 

were  only  two  females  in  the  apartment,  and  these  I 

recognized  as  the  two  ladies,  who  Miss  T had  told 

me,   believed   themselves  to  be  Queens  of   Sheba  and 
Babylon. 

"  Are  these  the  only  inmates  of  these  apartments?"  I 
inquired  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  I  presume  was  expres- 
sive of  disappointment,  for  the  woman  looked  keenly  at 
me  as  she  replied  : 

"  Yes,  these  are  all — indeed,  we  seldom  have  many  in 
these  rooms.  The  doctor's  charges  are  very  high  for 
these  accommodations." 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  337 

I  felt  certain  that  for  some  reason  I  had  been  request- 
ed to  wait,  only  that  the  keeper  might  remove  Miss 

T to  another  room  before  she  admitted  me,  but  I 

dared  not  imply  any  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  her  state- 
ment. 

I  returned  somewhat  disappointed  into  the  parlor,  and 
since  evasion  had  been  employed  with  me,  I  resolved  to 
proceed  to  any  lengths  as  regarded  subterfuge  on  my 
part,  for  I  saw  I  should  effect  no  purpose  by  plain 
sailing. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  I,  "  let  us  proceed  to  business.  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  in 
showing  me  around  your  establishment.  Allow  me  to 
say  that  I  think  your  treatment  excellent  and  deserving 
ot  all  praise.  I  have  taken  all  this  trouble  myself,  not 
from  any  curiosity  to  see  a  lunatic  asylum,  but  for  the 
benefit  of  others,  for  whom  I  am  working.  We  are  in- 
terested in  a  young  lady,  as  I  have  hinted  in  the  letter  I 
addressed  to  you,  and  I  am  the  physician  employed — do 
you  understand  ?  The  other  gentlemen  would  wish  to 
accompany  me  to-morrow,  and  then  I  hope  the  lady 
will  be  introduced  to  you.  I  should  wish  her  to  be 
placed  in  the  private  apartments  under  the  charge  of  the 
keeper  who  has  just  left  us.  She  seems  a  most  amiable 
woman." 

"  Oh,  a  delightful  woman  !"  exclaimed  the  proprietor, 
chuckling  and  rubbing  his  hands  at  the  prospect  of  an- 
other welf  paying  boarder. 

"Then  I  shall  bring  the  gentlemen  to-morrow?"  I 
said  interrogatively. 

"  Oh,  yes,  by  all  means,  sir — and  I  hope  the  lady  too," 
said  he  with  a  laugh.  "  My  entrance  fee  in  such  cases  i& 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  my  charge  one  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year.  W  hen  that  ceases,  the  ladies  are  sent  into 
the  other  ward.  We  think  then  that  their  friends  have 
no  longer  any  interest  in  them." 

I  rose,  and  was  so  utterly  disgusted  with  the  brutal 
wretch  that  I  scarcely  could  preserve  the  semblance  of 
civility  as  he  wished  me  good  day  and  extended  his 

15 


338  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

hand.  I  took  it  in  mine  with  the  same  sensation  of 
horror  and  disgust  that  I  would  have  felt  on  taking  hold 
of  the  slimy  body  of  a  rattle-snake.  I  seemed  to  draw 
my  breath  with  pain,  and  experienced  a  sensation  of  re- 
lief when  I  had  got  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  detest- 
able place. 

"I  am  resolved,"  said  I  to  myself — "I  am  resolved  on 
the  course  to  take.  It  is  the  only  practicable  one.  I 
will  go  at  once  to  a  magistrate  and  state  the  circum- 
stances which  have  led  to  my  visit  hither,  and  then  I 
will  procure  the  services  of  two  constables,  provided 
with  search-warrants  and  arms,  and  alive  or  dead,  A  dele 
T shall  leave  this  den  before  to-morrow  evening." 

This  course  I  pursued.  I  found  the  difficulty  greater 
than  I  expected,  however ;  the  magistrate  did  not  like 
to  interfere  in  such  a  case,  and  expressed  some  doubts 
of  his  right  to  do  so :  but  at  length  I  over-persuaded 
him,  promising  that  provided  I  obtained  possession  of 
the  object  of  my  search,  I  would  take  no  further  inte- 
rest in  the  proceedings  of  the  establishment.  This 
settled,  the  services  of  two  constables  were  easily  ob- 
tained, and  at  the  appointed  hour  we  sallied  forth  on  our 
adventure. 

I  am  rather  aged  to  act  the  part  of  a  knight-errant ; 
but  the  veritable  knight  of  La  Mancha  never  set  out  to 
the  rescue  of  a  forlorn  damsel  from  the  castle  of  a  giant, 
with  a  more  chivalrous  spirit,  than  did  I  to  rescue  Adele 
from  the  power  of  the  vile  ruffian  who  had  her  in  his 
abominable  charge.  We  reached  the  house,  and  were 
received  with  smiles  by  the  proprietor. 

"  Happy  to  see  you  again,  sir,"  said  he  to  me,  again  ex- 
tending to  me  his  detestable  palm.  "  These  gentlemen, 
are  the  principals,  I  presume,  in  this  little  matter  of  busi- 
ness. Happy  to  see  you,  gentlemen ;  but  where's  the 
lady  ?  I  don't  see  the  lady." 

"  I  hope  the  lady  will  shortly  be  amongst  us,"  I  re- 
plied ;  u  and  now,  sir,  have  the  goodness  to  lock  the 
door.  This  affair  demands  secrecy." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  the  villain,  as  he  turned 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  889 

the  key,  one  of  the  officers,  as  had  been  previously  ar- 
ranged, placing  himself  before  the  lock. 

"  Now,"  said  the  proprietor,  "  now,  gentlemen,  let  us 
be  explicit.  Who  is  the  lady,  and  what  is  her  name  ?" 

"  The  lady's  name,"  I  replied,  "  is  Adele  T ,  and 

you,  sir,  have  her  already  under  your  charge." 

The  man  changed  color. 

"  I  have  been  duped  in  this  business,"  he  said,  grind- 
ing his  teeth,  and  then  recollecting  himself,  he  added ; 

"  We  have  no  person  of  that  name  here." 

"  A  wrong  name  may  have  been  purposely  given  you, 
sir  ;  but  the  person  I  speak  of,  is  here.  I  myself  have 
seen  and  conversed  with  her  in  the  garden,  although  she 
was  removed  to  some  hiding-place  when  I  went  over 
your  vile  establishment  yesterday.  You  had  better  un- 
derstand me  at  once,"  I  fcontinued.  "  I  am  furnished 
with  such  authority  as  will  force  you  to  produce  her." 

"  If  she  is  not  here,  sir,  no  authority  on  earth  can  force 
me  to  produce  her." 

"  We  shall  see  that  presently.  Officers,  produce  your 
arms  and  your  search-warrant,  and  one  of  you  please  to 
remove  that  key  from  the  door.  Villainy  worthy  of  hell, 
has  been  concocted  in  this  place,  as  regards  that  lady, 
and  I  am  here  empowered  to  demand  her  freedom." 

"  Family  reasons,  sir,"  said  the  man  in  a  whining  tone, 
"  frequently  render  it  necessary  that  patients  should  en- 
ter this  establishment  under  fictitious  names.  But  these 
are  matters  with  which  I  have  nothing  to  do.  My  ob- 
ject is  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  their  relatives." 

"  Your  object,  sir,  should  be  to  cure,  rather  than  to 
keep  them,  and  to  take  none  but  the  really  insane  under 
your  care.  Your  establishment  should  be  conducted  as 
a  house  of  recovery — not  as  a  prison.  Of  course  I  mean 
where  the  persons  are  insane,  and  their  cases  are  curable. 
I  demand  that  you  will  find  this  young  lady  and  produce 
her  to  me." 

"But,  provided  I  cannot  do  so,"  replied  the  man,  dog- 
gedly,  "  what  then  ?" 

"  Why,  then,  we  are  in  possession  of  a  warrant  for 


340  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

your  own  arrest,  as  being  particeps  criminis  in  abduction 
and  murder.  Sir,  you  are  now  aware  of  the  alternative 
You  produce  the  person  we  require,  or  you  accompany 
us  yourself." 

"  If  you  wish  to  see  the  lady  I  suspect,  I  will  go  and 
bring  her  to  you,"  said  the  man,  rising  from  his  chair, 
and  going  towards  the  door. 

"  The  door  is  locked,  sir,"  I  replied.  "  My  companions 
are  constables,  and  armed  with  pistols.  You  do  not  quit 
our  sight  for  one  moment,  until  you  have  produced  the 
lady  we  are  in  search  of.  Come,  sir — an  officer  will  take 
you  by  the  arm.  Are  you  ready  to  accompany  us  ?" 

Seeing  that  the  case  was  hopeless,  and  having  received 
a  promise  from  me  that  if  I  found,  upon  making  subse- 
quent investigation,  that  he  was  guiltless  of  any  other 
crime  than  that  of  detaining  a  sane  lady  against  her  will, 
I  would  not  seek  further  to  criminate  him  respecting  the 
method  of  conducting  his  establishment,  he  consented  to 
be  led  between  the  two  officers  to  the  apartment  where 

Miss  T was  confined.  The  poor  girl  was  almost 

mad,  in  reality,  with  delight,  when  she  found  that  she 
was  indeed  free,  and  I  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining 
her,  at  one  time,  in  making  extravagant  demonstrations 
of  joy,  and  at  another  from  swooning. 

After  allowing  her  some  time  to  become  composed, 
and  insisting  upon  all  her  trunks — according  to  her  own 
account  of  them — being  placed  in  my  carriage,  we  left 
the  vile  den  of  infamy,  and  having  dismissed  my  at- 
tendants with  a  handsome  gratuity,  I  proceeded  with  my 
charge  to  my  hotel.  Through  some  papers  which  Miss 

T had  secreted  in  one  of  these  trunks,  and  through 

the  confessions  of  P and  his  paramour,  together  with 

some  further  revelations  from  Miss  T — ,  and  the  develop- 
ment of  some  other  mysteries  not  hitherto  explained,  the 
whole  affair,  strange,  mysterious,  heartless,  cruel  as  it 
was,  was  eventually  brought  to  light. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  841 


CHAPTER   XXYI. 

I  MENTIONED  in  my  last  chapter,  that  some  papers 

which  Miss  T ,  as  I  still  choose  to  call  her,  haa  in 

her  trunk,  subsequently  aided  materially  in  bringing 
to  light  the  apparently  iniquitous  mystery  that  I  was 
seeking  to  elucidate.  However,  for  the  present,  I  shall 
not  bring  them  forward,  as  it  is  necessary  previously, 
that  light  be  thrown  on  certain  other  passages  of  this 
strange  history. 

After  having  rescued  Miss  T ,  from  the  clutches 

of  the  depraved  wretch  who  acted  as  proprietor  of  the 
private  lunatic  asylum,  I  took  her  with  me  to  New 
York,  and  wishing  on  her  account,  as  well  as  my  own, 
to  keep  her  as  much  apart  from  prying  eyes  as  possi- 
ble, I  carried  her  to  a  country  residence  of  mine; 
a  short  distance  from  the  city,  and  there  placed  her 
in  charge  of  my  wife.  We  saw  little  company,  as  my 
wife  was  then  something  of  an  invalid — that  is,  without 
being  afflicted  with  painful  bodily  complaint,  she 
had  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  age.  If,  therefore,  by  any 
chance  any  one  did  happen  to  call,  it  was  very  easy  for 

Miss  T to  retire  to  her  own  room  until  they  had  left, 

and  thus  she  was  as  free  from  prying  curiosity,  as  though 
she  were  still  immured  within  the  walls  of  the  detestable 
lunatic  asylum.  Another  motive  that  induced  me  to 
bring  the  poor  girl  to  my  own  house  was,  that  I  had  ex- 
pected there  were  some  secret  passages  in  her  early  his- 
tory which  she  might  not  choose  to  relate  to  me,  and 
which,  yet,  might  be  of  vital  importance,  in  enabling  me 
to  fathom  the  depths  of  this  apparently  inextricable  case. 
I  was  in  hopes,  therefore,  that  having  become  familiar 
with  my  wife,  she  might  be  led  to  confide  to  her  such  re 
lations  as  she  would  be  unwilling  to  confide  to  me,  in  the 
first  person.  I  did  not,  for  a  moment,  entertain  a  sus- 


842  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

picion  that  Miss  T had  willingly  been  led  astray,  or 

nad  been  guilty  of  any  greater  fault  than  that  venial  one 
of  endeavoring,  when  she  discovered  to  her  sorrow  that 
her  fair  fame  had  been  destroyed,  to  accommodate  her- 
self to  circumstances,  and  that,  in  obedience  to  a  natur- 
ally volatile  disposition,  she  had  assumed  an  appearance 
of  gayety,  which  she  possessed  not  in  reality.  It  is  not 
always  a  sign  of  happiness  when  the  eyes  sparkle  and 
the  lips  wear  a  smile ;  and  oftentimes  they  who  feel  the 
keenest — they,  the  chords  of  whose  finest  susceptibilities 
are  strained  to  the  uttermost,  appear  to  the  outward  ob- 
server to  be  revelling  in  delights.  They  who  feel  the 
most  deeply  are  not  always  those  whose  eyes  are  red  with 
weeping,  and  whose  faces  are  clouded  with  care,  for  it  is 
only  in  the  solitude  of  their  own  chambers,  when  com- 
muning bitterly  with  their  own  hearts,  that  the  really 
suffering  give  full  scope  to  the  indulgence  of  their  grief. 
Real  grief  is  too  sacred  to  be  made  an  open  display  of. 

Such  was  the  opinion  I  had  formed  regarding  Miss 

T ,  and  I  was  not  wrong  in  the  estimation  of  her 

character.  Few  women  who  have  not  utterly  fallen, 
through  wretchedness  and  distress  of  mind,  are  able  to 
withstand  the  sympathy  of  one  of  their  own  sex,  and 
after  a  few  days  Miss  T related  to  my  wife  the  fol- 
lowing history  of  her  unhappy  attachment,  giving  her,  at 
the  same  time,  free  permission  to  disclose  the  sad  story 
to  me,  if  I  conceived  that  it  would  prove  of  service  in 
affording  any  light  as  regarded  the  investigation  I  was 
making  into  the  causes  which  had  led  to  the  mysterious 
disappearance — properly  the  murder — of  Mrs.  Mason 
and  her  child. 

I  will  relate  Miss  T 's  narrative,  as  I  heard  it  from 

my  wife,  and  in  the  unfortunate  young  woman's  own 
words. 

"  The  first  time  I  saw  P ,  who  has  been  the  author 

of  all  my  wretchedness  and  grief,  was,  while  on  a  visit  to 

a  friend  at  A ,  in  New  York  State.  This  was  before 

you  were  acquainted  with  me  ;  for  I  believe  I  first  made 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  34S 

your  and  Dr. 's  acquaintance  at  N ,  while  on  a 

visit  to  that  celebrated  bathing  place. 

"P was  then  a  very  handsome  and  agreeable 

young  man  ;  highly  accomplished,  at  least  in  the  super- 
ficial accomplishments  necessary  as  a  passport  in  fashion- 
able life.  I  was  then  a  very  young  and  inexperienced 

girl ;  P was  several  years  my  senior,  and  I  was 

greatly  flattered  by  the  notice  he  took  of  me.  I  fear  I 
was  inclined  to  be  a  little  vain,  and  it  pleased  my  vanity 
to  receive  such  marked  attention  from  a  gentleman  who, 
I  was  aware,  from  the  whisperings  I  heard,  would  have 
met  with  favor  from  women  much  older  than  myself. 

"  P had,  I  have  since  learnt,  been  disowned  by  his 

relatives  and  friends,  in  consequence  of  his  profligate 
character ;  for  although  he  belonged  to  a  wealthy  and 

influential  family  in  the  State  of ,  who  had  it  in  their 

power  to  help  him  upward  to  the  highest  position  in  so- 
ciety, he,  by  a  continuous  course  of  debauchery,  and,  it 
is  whispered,  even  still  more  disgraceful  conduct,  frus- 
trated their  every  effort.  For  a  long  time  he  was  rescued 
from  the  consequences  of  his  unbridled  and  unprincipled 
extravagance,  by  the  pecuniary  aid  of  his  friends  and 
relations;  but  by-and-by  they  refused  to  support  him 
any  longer  in  this  disreputable  course  of  life,  and  in  a 
fit  of  drunkenness  he  entered  the  United  States  army. 
After  some  time  had  elapsed,  his  friends  got  to  know  of 
this,  and  as  they  learnt  from  inquiry,  that  during  his 
short  service  in  the  army  he  had  behaved  himself  well, 
they  took  pity  upon  him,  procured  his  discharge,  and 
furnished  him  with  means  to  make  a  fresh  start  in  life  in 
some  one  of  the  Northern  States,  at  a  distance  from  his 
friends  and  his  former  bad  companions ;  promising,  at 
the  same  time,  that  if  his  future  conduct  gave  proof  of 
his  reform,  they  would  again  acknowledge  him,  and  that 
he  should  be  received  back  into  the  bosom  of  his  family. 
It  was  at  this  period  that,  with  his  refilled  purse,  he  vis- 
ited A ,  and  as  he  had  the  appearance  of  a  gentle- 
man, and  plenty  of  money  at  his  command,  and  bore  the 
name,  and  evidently  was  intimate  with  all  the  affairs  of 


844  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

one  of  the  most  esteemed  families  in  the  Union,  he  was, 
of  course,  well  received,  and  became  a  welcome  guest  in 
the  most  respectable  families  in  the  city. 

"  He  left  A after  a  lengthened  visit,  and  before  he 

went,  extorted  from  me  a  promise  to  correspond  with 

him  secretly  at  H ,  where,  he  said,  he  for  some  time 

intended  to  reside. 

"  It  was  through  this  correspondence  that  I  learnt  he 

was  to  visit  N in  the  following  autumn ;  and  I  was 

foolish  enough  to  persuade  my  guardian  to  go  there  with 
me,  under  the  pretence  that  I  was  not  well,  and  I  fancied 
sea-bathing  would  agree  with  me.  I  wanted  some  years 
of  attaining  my  majority,  and  therefore,  although  I  was 
heiress  to  considerable  property,  I  was  not  exactly  at  full 
liberty  to  follow  my  own  inclinations ;  but  my  guardian 
was  too  indulgent,  and  was  accustomed  to  anticipate  my 

every  wish  ;  consequently,  to  N we  went,  and  there 

I  renewed  my  personal  acquaintance  with  P .    There, 

also,  I  met  you  and  the  doctor.     While  at  N ,  P 

first  spoke  to  me  of  marriage ;  he  had  never  breathed 
such  a  thing  before,  not  even  in  the  letters  that  I  had  re- 
ceived from  him,  and  I  was  so  young,  so  inexperienced 
— so  ignorant  of  the  conventionalities  of  the  world,  that 
I  had  never  studied  the  cause  of  my  attachment  to  him, 
and  the  pleasure  I  felt  in  his  company.  I  don't  think,  at 
this  time,  I  had  any  love  for  hirn.  I  was  flattered  that 
one,  apparently  so  gifted  as  he,  should  have  singled  me 
out  as  the  object  of  his  admiration,  when  so  many  were 
sighing  for  the  attentions  he  paid  me,  and  paying  him  the 
secret  homage  of  their  hearts — and  that  was  all. 

"  When  he  spoke  to  me  of  marriage,  I  was  frightened 
at  first,  and,  observing  my  trepidation,  he,  in  the  gentlest 
tone  of  voice,  requested  me  to  think  seriously  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  to  give  him  a  reply  in  the  course  of  two  days. 

"  I  went  to  my  room,  and  I  believe  that  I  was  foolish 
enough  to  cry  for  hours.  I  knew  not  what  to  reply  to 
him,  and  he  had  especially  debarred  me  from  taking  any 
one  into  my  confidence ;  for,  he  told  me  that  onr  marriage 
oaust  be  kept  secret  for  some  time,  ao  be  birl  frv^da, 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  845 

whom  he  dared  not  offend,  who  had  other  views  -respect 
ing  him ;  but  that,  when  they  once  found  that  he  was 
really  married,  they  would  soon  come  round.  He  could 
not,  he  said,  surrender  his  hand  to  any  one,  however 
beautiful  and  wealthy,  when  his  affections  were  irrevo- 
cably bestowed  upon  another. 

''  Like  most  girls  of  my  age,  I  had  read  a  great  many 
romances  in  which  the  hero  of  the  story  has  such  disin- 
terested expressions  put  into  his  mouth,  and  I  thought 
how  noble,  how  generous  it  was  of  him  to  act  thus — to 
offer  to  marry  me,  who,  although  an  heiress,  was  so  far 
beneath  what  he  represented  himself  to  be  ;  and  I  endowed 
him,  in  my  imagination,  with  all  the  noble  sentiments  of 
my  favorite  heroes. 

"  I  well  remember  the  hour  oa  which  we  again  met. 
It  was  on  a  calm  moonlit  night,  on  the  beach,  beneath 
the  impending  cliffs,  long  after  the  last  party  of  bathers 
had  sought  their  hotels.  Here  and  there  along  the 
shingled  beach  might  be  seen  a  stray  couple,  probably 
on  the  same  mission  as  ourselves ;  for,  the  hour  and  the 
scene  were  alike  adapted  to  the  purpose  and  calculated 
to  awaken  all  the  liveliest  and  softest  emotions.  The 
wide  expanse  of  ocean  was  calm  and  smooth  as  a  lake 
embedded  in  mountain  scenery  and  sheltered  from  the 
fury  of  the  storm.  It  was  scarcely  possible  for  the  ima- 
gination to  conceive,  as  one  gazed  upon  that  smooth  ex- 
panse of  water,  silvered  over  by  the  rays  of  the  full  moon, 
and  on  the  bosom  of  which,  in  the  distance,  could  be 
seen  the  white  sails  of  the  tall,  motionless  vessels  as  they 
lay  becalmed,  that  its  placid  surface  could  ever  be  fur- 
rowed into  mountain  ridges,  by  the  fury  of  the  winds. 
The  sand  beneath  our  feet  was  softer  to  our  tread  than 
a  Turkey  carpet,  and  over  our  head  the  blue-black  ex- 
panse of  heaven  was  unbroken  by  a  single  cloud,  and 
thence  myriads  of  stars  peeped  forth  as  if  the  eyes  of 
countless  angels  were  gazing  with  delight  upon  the 
tranquillity  and  loveliness  of  a  slumbering  world.  It 
was,  truly,  the  witching  hour  of  night ;  and  never  had 
that  mysterious  hour  assumed  a  semblance  of  more  soul- 

15* 


846  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OK, 

subduing  witchery.  And  there,  as  we  lingered  by  the 
shore,  watching  the  rippling  eddies  caused  by  the  ad- 
vancing tide,  and  listening  to  the  murmuring  music  of 
the  tiny  waves  as  they  broke  upon  the  pebbly  beach 
there  my  willing  ears  drank  in  deep  draughts  of  love. 
Perhaps,  the  outpouring  of  love — the  tale  of  constant 
and  ever  increasing  devotion  that  was  told  to  me  on  that 
ever-to-be  remembered  night,  was  also  told  to  others  who 
lingered  on  the  beach  and  gazed  with  me  on  the  enchant- 
ing prospect.  Yet,  ever  and  anon,  as  I  listened  to  the 
silver  tones  of  the  tempter,  a  still  small  voice  seemed  to 
whisper  in  my  ear:  beware! — be  not  too  credulous;  for, 
deceitful  as  is  the  now  peaceful  ocean  that  you  gaze  upon, 
are  often  the  honeyed  words  of  love. 

"  Was  it  mere  fancy  that  whispered  this  solemn  warn- 
ing in  my  ear,  or  was  it  a  warning  in  reality? — one  of 
those  strange  mysterious  forebodings  of  future  evil  for 
which  we  are  unable  to  account.  Did  others  standing 
on  that  peaceful  shore  hear  this  warning  as  well  as  I,  or 
was  it  whispered  to  me  alone  ?  Was  /the  only  deceived 
one  among  those  youthful  couples,  and  was  lie  who  whis- 
pered to  me  the  only  tempter — the  only  false-hearted 
being  on  that  lonely  beach?  Pray  Heaven  it  was  so, 
for  I  could  wish  no  unsuspecting  maiden,  no  deceived 
matron  to  experience  the  misery  that  I  have  known 
since  that  night.  Enough  of  this ;  I  sorrow  to  dwell 
upon  this  melancholy  retrospect,  yet  once  having  con- 
jured up  the  scene  to  my  mind's  vision,  I  am  loth  to 
banish  it.  That  night  was  my  last  night  of  innocent 
unmingled  happiness.  I  have  known  pleasure  since,  as 
1  have  known  grief  and  remorse ;  but  never  since  then 
have  I  been  truly  happy.  Never  can  I  know  perfect 
happiness  on  earth  again:  for  my  purity  of  mind  has 
flown,  and  once  dispossessed  of  that,  it  can  never  be 
again  restored  to  us. 

"  That  night,  I  promised,  when  my  guardian  returned 
with  me  to  New  York,  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of 

becoming  secretly  the  wife  of  P .  Having  obtained 

this  promise  from  me,  my  lover  left  N on  the  follow- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  347 

ing  day,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  have  all  things  in  readi- 
ness on  mj  arrival  in  New  York,  which  was  to  be  early 
in  the  following  week. 

"  P ,  placed  a  note  in  my  hand  at  parting,  in  which 

he  reiterated  his  vows  of  love,  and  conjured  me  as  I  va- 
lued his  prospects  of  future  well  doing,  not  to  breathe  to 
any  one  that  our  love  had  been  plighted,  and  that  our 
union  was  at  hand. 

"  In  due  time  I  arrived  at  New  York,  and  was  met  by 
P ,  according  to  appointment,  at  a  saloon  in  Broad- 
way, a  few  evenings  afterwards.  He  assured  me  that  all 
preliminaries  had  been  arranged,  and  helping  me  into 
a  carriage  that  was  in  waiting,  I  was  conveyed  by  him 
to  the  house,  as  he  said,  of  a  friend,  at  which  the  clergy- 
man was  in  waiting.  At  that  house,  on  that  evening,  I 
gave,  and  received,  as  I  believed  in  good  faith,  the  sacred 
pledges  of  love  and  union  while  life  should  last. 

"  The  ceremony  having  been  concluded,  I  was  taken 

to  the  head  of street,  where  my  guardian  resided, 

by,  as  I  thought,  my  husband,  it  having  been  previously 
arranged  where  we  should  meet  each  other  on  the  fol- 
lowing day. 

"  The  next  morning  I  met  P ,  and  we  took  a  long 

walk  together,  for  my  guardian  left  me  wholly  untram- 
melled, as  regarded  my  personal  liberty  to  go  abroad 
when  and  where  I  chose.  He  placed  full  confidence  in 
my  discretion — would  to  Heaven  I  had  never  betrayed 
that  confidence. 

"  We  continued  to  meet  in  this  clandestine  manner  for 

some  time.  More  than  once  P told  me  he  had  been 

disappointed  in  the  receipt  of  some  expected  remittances 
from  his  friends,  and  as  I  had  always  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  at  my  own  disposal,  I  placed  a  large  amount 
in  his  hands. 

"  At  length  he  told  me  that  business  of  importance 
would  require  his  absence  for  a  short  time  from  the  city ; 
he  said  he  was  sorry  to  leave  me  even  for  so  short  an 
absence,  but  it  was  imperatively  necessary  that  he  should 
do  so.  At  the  same  time  he  hinted  that  he  was  placed 


348  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OK, 

in  an  awkward  position  by  the  failure  of  his  customary  re- 
mittances which  he  could  not  account  for  any  other  wa* 
than  that  there  must  be  illness  in  the  family.  He  said 
he  had  written  to  ascertain  if  such  was  the  case.  Had 
he,  he  continued,  a  few  thousands,  or  even  only  a  few 
hundred  dollars  at  his  immediate  disposal,  he  could  in- 
crease it  tenfold  by  the  very  speculation  which  now 
called  him  away. 

"  He  asked  me  then  whether  I  had  any  means  of  sup- 
plying him  temporarily  with  a  little  cash;  but  I  had  pre- 
viously given  him  all  my  disposable  store,  and  so  I  told 
him.  He  then  asked  what  was  the  amount  of  property 
I  possessed  in  my  own  right.  I  told  him  $10,000. 
1  Could  I  not  manage  to  get  him  a  portion  of  that — say 
$5,000,'  he  asked. 

''  I  replied,  that  I  regretted  that  it  was  impossible,  for 
until  I  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  it  was  entirely 
under  the  control  of  my  guardian.  Had  I  at  that  time 
possessed  the  means  of  obtaining  the  money,  I  would 
freely  have  bestowed  it  upon  him,  but  that  was  impossi- 
ble ;  and  he  rather  coldly,  as  I  fancied,  bade  me  good- 
bye— kissed  me  and  started  on  his  journey.  Whither, 
he  did  not  say,  and  I  had  forgotten  in  my  grief  and  anx- 
iety at  his  departure  to  ask.  However,  he  was  only  to 
be  away  one  month,  and  then  we  were  to  be  reunited. 
I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  while  thinking  that  night 
of — as  I  believed — my  absent  husband,  it  for  the  first 
time  struck  me  as  singular  that  he  who  had  boasted  of 
Buch  great  wealth  should  be  so  distressed  for  the  want 
of,  comparatively,  so  small  a  sum.  I  think  I  had  been 
reading  some  account  in  one  of  the  daily  papers  of  a 
husband  who  had  robbed  his  wife  of  all  the  property  she 
had  possessed  in  her  own  right,  and  I  then  made  a  men- 
tal resolve  that,  although  P ,  whom  still  I  cannot  say 

that  as  yet  I  distrusted,  should  always  be  welcome  to  the 
use  of  the  interest  my  money  brought  me,  but  I  should 
retain  the  principal  under  my  own  control. 

"  Three  weeks  after  this,  my  guardian  died  suddenly, 
and  he  had  made  no  arrangements  relative  to  my 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  349 

guardianship  during  the  residue  of  my  minority,  and  as 
he  was  the  only  person  who  had  any  control  over  m^ 
money,  I  found  myself  at  once  complete  mistress  of  my 
resources.  Two  days  after  this  unhappy  event,  and 

nearly  a  week  before  I  expected  him,  P arrived 

home.  His  business,  he  said,  had  not  occupied  so  much 
of  his  time  as  he  had  anticipated,  and  he,  of  course,  upon 
concluding  it,  had  hurried  home.  He  expressed  great 
surpise  and  regret  upon  hearing  of  my  guardian's  death, 
and  said  that  I  was  his  first  informant  of  the  sad  affair. 
But  this  was  false,  as  I,  even  at  the  time,  suspected,  for 
if  he  had  not  known  of  it,  how  came  he  to  visit  me  at 
my  guardian's  own  residence,  a  thing  he  had  never  done 
before. 

"  No  sooner  was  the  funeral  over  than  he  again  urged 
me  to  make  over  the  money  I  was  possessed  of  to  him  ; 
but  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  do  this,  unless  he  at 
once  acknowledged  me  as  his  wife,  when  I  said  he  would 
of  course  become  my  lawful  guardian. 

"  He  sought  to  make  me  alter  my  mind,  but  in  vain. 
I  asked  him  what  the  reason  was  that  he  longer  wished 
to  delay  the  acknowledgment  of  our  marriage,  and  at 
last  getting  vexed  at  his  pertinacious  refusal,  I  said  that 
I  should  call  on  the  gentleman  who  had  rny  money  in- 
vested, and  state  to  him  that  I  was  married. 

"  At  this  he  grew  angry,  and  not  wishing  to  annoy 
him  I  said  no  more.  I  promised  him  that  he  should 
have  the  disposal  of  my  dividends,  and  there  the  matter 
rested. 

"  Soon  after  this,  he  was  amply  supplied  with  money, 
as  I  believed,  by  his  long  silent  friends,  and  we  lived 
happily  as  man  and  wife  lor  eighteen  months;  all  that 
ever  caused  me  any  disquiet  was  that  P still  ob- 
jected to  make  me  known  as  his  wife,  to  his  family  and 
friends. 

"  During  this  period,  P made  me  acquainted  with 

Mr.  Mason,  who  was  a  very  frequent  visitor  at  our  house. 
Sometimes  he  staid  with  us  for  days  and  weeks  together 


350  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

for  we  lived  a  short  distance  in  the  country,  and  led  a 
very  retired  life. 

"  There  was  something  I  could  not  like  in  Mason,  al- 
though he  was  rather  prepossessing  than  otherwise  in 
personal  appearance;  but  the  habits  of  dissipation  which 

P disguised  so  well,  were  painfully  apparent  in  the 

countenance  of  Mason,  who,  I  should  say  by  the  waj 
held  a  responsible  position  in  one  of  the  leading  mercan- 
tile firms  in  the  city. 

"One  evening  I  was  sitting  by  the  open  window  in 
my  bed-room,  admiring  the  beauty  of  a  clear  summer's 
evening,  when  my  attention  was  directed  to  some  con- 
versation in  high  tones  between  Mason  and  P in  an 

adjoining  apartment. 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  become  a  listener,  but  some  secret 
feeling  impelled  me  to  remain  where  I  was ;  besides,  I 
soon  found,  to  my  astonishment,  that  the  two  young 
men  were  quarreling,  and  as  they  had  always  expressed 
extreme  friendship,  this  astonished  and  alarmed  me.  I 
soon  distinguished  that  the  quarrel  related  to  some 
female,  and  now  my  curiosity  was  fully  aroused.  By- 

and-by  I  heard  Mason  taunt  P ,  by  saying  that  he 

was  in  the  same  hobble  as  himself,  for  he  was  well 
aware  the  marriage  was  false. 

"  I  approached  the  door  and  put  my  ear  to  the  key- 
hole. How  my  heart  beat.  Was  it  possible  that  Mason 
referred  to  me,  when  he  spoke  of  a  false  marriage. 

"  I  soon  heard  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  he  did,  and 
for  a  moment  or  two  I  felt  as  though  I  should  swoon 
away.  I  would  have  willingly  sunk  into  the  earth  to 
have  hidden  the  sense  of  shame  and  degradation  that 
overwhelmed  me.  But  this  feeling  quickly  passed  away, 
and  I  was  seized  with  the  rage  of  a  tigress.  I  burst  open 
the  door,  and  appeared  before  the  guilty  pair,  and 

charged  P with  the  crime  and  outrage  he  had  been 

guilty  of.  For  a  moment  he  was  paralyzed,  and  then  he 
attempted  to  make  some  excuse — to  say  that  I  was  mis- 
taken in  what  I  had  heard ;  but  I  had  listened  too  long 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  851 

and  made  too  sure,  and  I  would  not  be  appeased.  I 
threatened  both  with  instant  exposure. 

"  Mason  shortly  afterwards  slunk  out  of  the  house,  and 

I  was  left  alone  with  P ;  until  now,  he  had  always 

used  me  kindly,  and  when  the  first  burst  of  fury  was 
past,  I  listened  to  his  excuses.  He  said  still  that  there 
were  reasons  which  he  could  not  explain  for  his  having 
acted  as  he  had  done ;  but  that  the  time  would  arrive 
when  they  would  no  longer  exist,  and  then  the  marriage 
should  be  properly  performed,  and  all  would  be  well. 
He  said  it  was  his  ardent  affection,  and  his  fear  of  losing 
me,  should  he  wait,  that  had  urged  him  to  act  as  he  had 
done. 

"  Good  God  !  why  did  I  listen  to  his  specious  words — 
I  was  fascinated  by  the  man.  Before  we  parted  that 
evening  I  had  promised  to  say  nothing  respecting  what 
had  occurred,  but  still  to  live  with  him  as  I  had  done  be- 
fore, as  his  wife.  It  was  then  that  I  made  the  first  real 
descent  into  crime.  I  should  immediately  have  left  him, 
although  I  would  not  expose  him ;  but  I  loved  him  too 
well. 

"  In  a  short  time  Mason  brought  a  young  woman  to 
reside  at  our  house,  who  passed  as  his  wife,  and  such  both 
she  herself  and  I  believed  she  was.  She  lived  with 
us  some  time,  and  gave  birth  to  a  child,  who  died  almost 
immediately  after  its  birth. 

"  By  some  means  or  other  it  leaked  out  that  this  poor 
creature,  who  was  some  five  or  six  years  older  than  I, 
had  likewise  been  deceived  in  the  same  manner  as  my- 
self. Poor  thing !  she  likewise  refused  to  expose  her 
guilty  lover,  for  she  loved  him  to  adoration ;  but  she  bore 
the  disgrace  worse  than  I ;  she  was  of  a  more  retiring 
and  far  more  thoughtful  disposition. 

"  However,  both  P and  Mason  behaved  kindly  to 

us,  and  we  were  as  happy  as  we  could  be  under  such  dis- 
tressing circumstances. 

"  One  evening  Mason  did  not  return  home  from  the 
city,  and  poor  Mrs.  Mason,  as  I  still  'called  her,  grew 
alarmed.  In  the  morning  the  newspaper  was  brought  to 


862  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

the  house  as  usual,  and  on  taking  it  up  and  casting  her 
eye  over  the  columns,  she  gave  a  faint  scream,  and 
swooned  away. 

"When  she  was  restored  to  consciousness,  she  took 
my  hand  and  murmured,  '  Oh,  that  horrid  paper.  It 
can't  be  true.'  P had  gone  out  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  we  were  alone  in  the  house,  with  the  exception 
of  the  servants.  I  took  the  paper  in  my  hands  at  her 
bidding,  and  read  the  paragraph  she  pointed  out.  Alas ! 
it  alluded  to  a  heavy  defalcation  which  had  occurred  in 
the  house  in  which  Mason  held  a  confidential  position, 
and  hinted  that  he  was  the  delinquent. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Mason  went  into  one  fainting  fit  after  an- 
other, until  the  evening,  when  she  fell,  utterly  exhausted, 

into  a  heavy,  but  anxious  slumber.  Meanwhile,  P 

returned  home  and  corroborated  the  newspaper  statement. 
He  told  me  that  Mason  had  been  arrested  and  that  heavy 
bail  had  been  demanded,  which,  however,  at  last  had  been 
procured,  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  all  would  turn  out 
well,  for  his  disgrace  would  reflect  severely  upon  influ- 
ential friends,  who  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  pro- 
cure his  acquittal  at  any  cost,  not  so  much  out  of  regard 
for  him  as  for  their  own  sakes,  who  were  related  to  him. 
He  said  Mason  would  return  home  that  night,  and  mean- 
while it  would  be  well  to  allow  Mrs.  Mason  to  believe 
that  the  allegations  were  untrue.  Mason  came  home 
about  ten  o'clock,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  immediate- 
ly aroused  Mrs.  Mason  from  her  fitful  slumber. 

"  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  she  rushed  to  his  embrace 
and  said  she  had  had  a  frightful  dream  regarding  him. 
Then  the  whole  truth  flashed  to  her  recollection,  and  she 
pressed  her  brow  violently,  and  then  taking  hold  of  one 
of  her  husband's  hands,  she  pushed  back  the  hair  from 
his  forehead  with  the  other  hand,  and  looking  up  be- 
seechingly, yet  half  wildly  into  his  face,  said  in  tones  of 
anguish  that  I  shall  never  forget : 

"  '  Edward — you  are  not  guilty.  Edward — say  you  are 
not  guilty,  ray  hmband  ?" 

"  '  No — no,'  said  Mason,  '  it  is  all  a  mistake,  which  will 


STRAY   LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  353 

soon  be  put  to  rights — now  let  us  retire,'  and  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  pale  cheek. 

"  That  night  Mrs.  Mason  gave  birth  to  another  child, 
which  also  died  shortly  afterwards. 

"  The  examination  of  Mason  was  a  protracted  but  a 
private  one.  Little  was  heard  of  the  matter  in  public 
after  the  first  explosion.  However,  many  months  passed 
away,  and  the  examination  was  still  pending,  and  even 
after  it  was  ended,  it  was  long  before  the  firm  could  find 
out  how  heavily  they  had  been  robbed. 

"  At  length  all  was  settled,  and  Mason  was  discharged 
— nothing  wrong  could  be  attached  to  his  character  pub 
licly,  although  people  might  think  what  they  pleased  in 

private,   and  P and  Mason   started   for   California. 

having  determined  to  enter  into  business  there,  as  they 
said,  and  then  to  send  for  us. 

"  Before  Mason  sailed,  he  made  the  arrangements  he 

thought  needful,  in  accordance  with  P ,  respecting 

our  subsistence  during  their  absence,  and  Mason  took  a 

small  house,  paying  the  rent  in  advance.     P also 

discharged  the  man  servant  we  had  kept,  and  Mason  hired 
one  of  his  own  choosing,  who,  I  fear,  was  as  wicked  as 
himself. 

u  I  still  had  one  or  two  friends  living  some  distance 
from  New  York,  who  were  ignorant  of  the  false  step  I 
had  taken.  They  were  maiden  ladies,  who  seldom  went 
abroad,  and  sometimes  I  paid  them  a  visit.  Once  I  was 
nearly  discovered,  for  one  of  these  ladies  unexpectedly 
came  to  New  York,  and  sent  word  to  me,  for  they  knew 
the  number  of  our  house,  and  the  place  where  it  was  lo- 
cated, stating  her  desire  that  I  would  visit  her  at  her  ho- 
tel and  then  she  would  be  happy  to  accompany  me  home. 
"  I  never  went  abroad  without  being  thickly  veiled, 
and  thus  it  was  that  I  was  never  recognized  by  the  many 
persons  who  would  otherwise  have  known  me  in  New 
York ;  and  by-and-by  I  began  to  feel  a  sort  of  pleasura- 
ble excitement  in  maintaining  this  incognito.  On  this 

occasion  I  went  to  the House,  and  saw  the  lady, 

taking  my  own  carriage,  and  I  offered  to  drive  her  out, 

12* 


854  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

which  offer  she  accepted ;  but  I  excused  myself  from  re- 
ceiving her  at  home,  saying  that  there  was  sickness  in 
the  house — which  was,  indeed,  true,  for  Mrs.  Mason  was 
about  being  confined  at  the  time.  That  was  the  occasion 

when  Dr. saw  me  in  the   carriage,  and   knew  m6 

in  spite  of  my  veil,  in  consequence  of  the  incautious  ex- 
posure of  the  rings  I  wore  on  my  fingers. 

"Some  months  after  P and  Mason  had   left  us, 

Mrs.  Mason  gave  birth  to  her  third  child,  which  lived, 
though  much  I  fear  neither  it  nor  its  mother  are  now 
alive.  While  we  lived  thus,  we  received  letters  regularly 
from  California,  although  at  distant  intervals.  At  first,  I 
had  no  suspicion  but  that  all  was  right.  We  thought  that 

Mason  and  P had  gone  into  business  together,  and 

we  hoped  they  would  prosper ;  that  they  would  send  for 
us  to  join  them  when  they  were  properly  settled,  and  that 
then  our  wrongs  would  be  redressed  ;  and  that  in  a  dis- 
tant land,  far  from  the  many  recollections  which  embit- 
tered home  to  us,  we  should  be  happy  together. 

"  By-and-by,  however,  our  letters  began  to  grow  still 
more  scarce  ;  but,  as  we  were  naturally  interested  in  all 
that  was  going  on  in  California,  we  paid  particular  atten 
tion  to,  and  were  deeply  interested  in,  the  budget  of 
California  news  brought  by  each  successive  mail. 

"  At  length  I  saw  several  strange  paragraphs,  which  1 

instinctively  thought  alluded  to  Mason  and  P ;  and 

from  the  tenor  of  them,  I  began  to  fear  that  they  were 
following  an  evil  course  in  the  land  of  their  adoption.  I 
concealed  these  suspicions  as  much  as  possible  from  Mrs. 
Mason,  who  continued  in  such  a  weakly  state  of  health, 
that  I  feared  the  least  excitement  would  lead  to  severe 
illness.  It  was  one  of  these  paragraphs  that  I  was  cutting 
out  from  a  fresh  budget  of  news  from  California, 
when  I  was  surprised  in  my  employment  by  Doctor 

.     Perhaps  he  may  have  mentioned  the  circumstance 

to  you. 

"  All  these  paragraphs  I  pasted  in  an  album,  under  the 
dates  to  which  they  related,  and  they  are  now  in  the 
bottom  of  one  of  my  trunks.  No  one  suspected  me  of 


STBAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL,  865 

possessing  them,  or  I  feel  assured  that  the  album  would 
nave  been  taken  from  me  and  destroyed. 

"  One  day,  several  weeks  after  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Ma- 
son's child,  and  when  he  was  grown  to  be  quite  a  fine 
little  fellow,  we  were  quite  surprised  by  the  utterly  un- 
expected arrival  of  P ,  from  California.  He  in- 
formed us,  when  the  first  surprise  into  which  we  were 
thrown,  was  past,  that  Mason  had  also  returned,  and  was 
waiting  us  at  a  small  town  in  Pennsylvania,  and  that  we 
were  to  set  out  to  meet  him  immediately. 

"  This  we  did  ;  and  it  is  needless  for  me  to  pursue  this 

narrative  any  further,  as  Dr. is  acquainted  with  all 

that  has  since  occurred  to  me." 

Having  thus  told  the  story  of  her  own  troubles  to  my 

wife,  which  story  was  duly  related  to  me,  Miss  T 

wished  me  to  examine  the  papers  in  her  possession ;  also 
the  scraps  she  had  pasted  in  the  album,  as  she  believed 
much  might  be  gathered  from  them. 


356  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

SHORTLY  afterwards,  I  received  a  letter  from  Texas, 

containing  the  partial  confession  of  T .     This  letter  I 

of  course  received  from  the  friend  alluded  to  in  the  ear- 
lier period  of  this  reminiscence,  as  having  gone  to  Gal- 
veston  from  New  Orleans,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting 
T and  his  paramour  in  prison,  and  getting  such  in- 
formation, if  possible,  as  would  lead  to  the  release  of 
Adele  from  the  Lunatic  Asylum,  in  which  she  had  been 
confined.  This  friend  had  become  subsequently  so  in- 
terested in  this  matter,  which  at  first,  as  the  reader  will 
recollect,  he  seemed  inclined  to  scoff  at,  that  he  almost 
identified  himself  with  its  investigation  in  an  equal  de- 
gree with  myself,  and  was  of  infinite  service  to  me,  in 
discovering  the  facts  which  have  yet  to  be  communicated 
to  the  reader.  The  letter  of  which  I  have  spoken,  ran  as 
follows : 

GALVESTON, 

"  DEAR  DOCTOR  *  *  *  *  * — Now  to  the  main  busi- 
ness which  brought  me  to  this  ultima  thule  of  creation,  or 
at  least  of  civilization.  I  have  had  several  interviews 

with  P ;  also,  with  the  female  who  was  arrested  with 

him.  As  you  are  aware,  the  woman  was  at  first  inclined 
to  be  communicative ;  but  she  has  since  become  quite 
taciturn — still  P ,  although  guarded  in  all  that  re- 
gards himself,  indirectly  has  given  some  information  re- 
specting the  doings  of  the  worthy  coterie  to  which  he  be- 
longed, in  California,  which  may  be  of  service.  I  have 

gained  this  information  from  P ,  only  upon  condition 

that  it  shall  not  be  used  for  the  purpose  of  criminating 
himself  upon  his  trial ;  and  therefore,  as  I  feel  bound  in 
honor  to  keep  my  promise,  I  must  forewarn  you  to  be 
careful  how  you  apply  it. 

P says,  after  having  quitted  New  York,  in  com- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  857 

pany  with  another  person,  whose  name  he  would  not 
give,  (as  he  intimated  that  there  was  "  honor  among 
thieves,"  and  as  this  person,  whoever  he  was,  had  left 
the  city  to  avoid  the  evil  effects  of  some  misdemeanor 
there,  and  was  still,  so  far  as  he  knew,  at  large  and  un- 
suspected, to  mention  his  name,  or  even  his  aliases — for 
it  appears  that  he  went  by  more  than  one  name,  would 
be  perhaps  prejudicial  to  him,)  he  sailed  via  Cape  Horn 
to  San  Francisco,  at  which  place  having  a  considerable 
sum  of  money  with  him,  (I  fear  not  over  honestly  ob- 
tained,) he  with  his  friend  engaged  in  the  lumber  busi- 
ness there,  and  were  for  some  time  very  successful. 

However,  perhaps,  it  is  best  that  I  allow  P ,  to 

tell  his  story  in  his  own  words  as  near  as  possible,  and  I 
think  I  have  them  pretty  correct,  as  I  jotted  them  down 
in  my  note  book  that  very  evening,  after  I  had  left. 

"  We  had  rather  a  tedious  but  a  pretty  fair  voyage 
from  New  York,  although  we  were  considerably  detained 
by  adverse  winds  on  the  eastern  side  of  Cape  Horn — but 
take  it  all  in  all,  the  passage  was  a  fair  one.  Upon  land- 
ing, our  first  question  was  to  ascertain  the  exact  amount 
of  our  resources,  and  then  to  consider  how  we  could  ren- 
der them  most  available  to  us.  We  found  upon  comparing 
purses  that  together  we  had  about  $9,000 ;  the  greater 
portion  of  this,  however,  belonged  to  Mason,  but  then, 
as  an  offset  to  this,  I  had  so  arranged  matters  as  to  obtain 
the  promise  of  $10,000 — the  fortune  of  a  deceased  rela- 
tive who  had  died  leaving  no  will,  but  to  whose  property 
I  was  legally  the  only  living  heir.  This  money  was  in- 
vested in  various  securities,  and  it  is  to  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  it  that  I  may  lay  the  misfortunes  that  have 
overtaken  me.  For  if  I  could  have  put  my  full  quota 
of  cash  to  my  partner's,  we  should  not  have  met  with 
anything  more  than  a  temporary  reverse  at  the  moment 
of  panic,  while  as  it  was  we  were  ruined,  having  no  re- 
sources to  fall  back  upon,  when  by  a  sudden  glut  in  the 
market  our  stock  of  lumber  was  ruinously  depreciated  in 
value,  and  we  were  left  without  a  penny  to  help  our- 
selves with. 


868  THE   OLD  DOCTOR  |   OR, 

"  We  had  commenced  business  with  the  intention  of 
gaining  an  honest  livelihood,  and  if  we  succeeded,  of 
sending  to  New  York  for  our  wives,  and  making  Califor 
nia  our  future  home."  (So  you  see,  doctor,  the  fellow 
speaks  of  his  wife,  and  that  of  his  companion.  May  not 
the  wife  be  the  lady  in  the  lunatic  asylum,  and  may  not 
the  $10,000,  the  alleged  property  of  the  deceased  relative, 
allude  to  moneys  of  hers,  which  the  fellow  hoped,  by 
the  cruel  incarceration  of  the  poor  girl,  to  get  into  his 
possession?  It  strikes'  me,  doctor,  that  this  would  be 
worth  looking  into,  provided  you  have  not  already  gained 
information  respecting  which  I  am  ignorant.) 

But  to  proceed  with  the  fellow's  story.  I  left  off  where 
he  said  he  intended  to  have  made  California  his  future 
home.  He  continued : 

"  But  all  our  good  resolves  were  banished  by  this  un- 
fortunate catastrophe,  and  mutually  cursing  all  attempts 
at  honesty  as  downright  humbug — for  had  we  not  found 
the  fallacy  of  such  a  course  of  procedure  ?  When  for 
the  first  time  in  our  lives  that  we  tried  to  be  honest  we 
were  cleared  out  without  a  shilling. 

"  Determined  to  use  mankind  in  future  as  the  gour- 
mand does  an  oyster — to  extract  all  that  was  worth  tak- 
ing from  the  fattest,  or  wealthiest,  if  they  came  in  our 
way ;  but  at  the  same  time,  by  no  means  to  shun  any 
prize,  however  small,  we  cast  about  to  see  how  best  we 
could  commence  our  new  mode  of  life,  or  rather,  I  scru- 
ple not  to  say  it,  how  best  we  could  recommence  in  a 
strange,  to  us,  almost  a  foreign  land,  the  profession  of 
chevalier  cfindustrie,  which  both  of  us  had  heretofore 
practised,  although  in  a  different  manner ;  for  my  com- 
panion, you  see,  had  been  one  of  those  respectable  rogues 
who,  so  long  as  they  are  not  found  out,  go  upon  change 
with  a  brazen  countenance,  and  pass  as  worthy  members 
of  society ;  while  I  had  practised  at  the  gaming-table,  and 
done  other  deeds  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  mention, 
more  open  to  the  contumely  and  scorn  of  the  world,  but 
not  a  whit  more  guilty.  As  it  was,  the  different  manner 
in  which  we  mutually  plucked  purses  from  the  simple 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  359 

End  the  indolent,  led  to  our  secret  acquaintance,  although 
until  an  unlucky  discovery  took  place  one  day,  of  course 
the  respectable  rogue  could  not  mix  in  social  equality 
with  the  disreputable  vagabond.  Still  as  I  have  said,  we 
worked  into  each  other's  hands  secretly,  until  an  unlucky 
turn  of  the  cards  rendered  it  advisable  for  us  both  '  tc 
leave  our  country  for  our  country's  good,'  and  we  did  so, 
but  we  left  plenty  more  behind  us,  who  some  day  may 
find  themselves  in  the  like  predicament,  although  now 
they  would  scorn  to  acknowledge  us.  Their  defections 
are  yet  secret,  and  they  walk  undisguised  in  high 
places. 

"  Well,  sir.  It  is  a  difficult  matter  for  penniless  men 
even  to  be  dishonest,  as  it  is  almost  impossible  for  them 
to  be  honest.  This  may  appear  paradoxical ;  but  it  is 
not  so ;  for  we  could  not  stoop  to  petty  acts  of  delin- 
quency— we  should  have  been  discovered  by  our  awk- 
wardness, for  to  such  acts  we  had  never  accustomed  our- 
selves, and  without  money  or  credit  we  could  not  enter 
into  any  grand  scheme. 

"  The  gaming-table  in  California  has  made  the  fortune 
of  many  a  desperate  man ;  but  we  could  not  seek  fortune 
even  there  without  means  to  risk,  or  at  least  without  the 
pretence  of  risking  money,  that  we  had  not  to  risk. 

"In  this  dilemma,  just  as  we  were  upon  the  point  of 
actual  starvation  in  that  land  whence  gold  has  flowed 
eastward  in  such  a  prodigal  and  uninterrupted  stream, 
and  were  actually  upon  the  point  of  demeaning  ourselves 
by  committing  acts  of  petty  theft  for  the  purpose  of  main- 
taining life  within  us,  I  met  with  some  friends  whom  I 
had  known  in  the  Eastern  States.  They  recognized  me, 
as  I  could  see  at  once,  but  were  apparently  doubtful 
whether  to  address  me  or  not,  for  although  California 
destroys  all  social  distinction  amongst  those  whom  the 
world  calls  honest,  but  who  in  the  Atlantic  cities  move 
entirely  in  a  different  sphere,  it  renders  the  truly  honest, 
because  open-hearted,  bare-faced  knave,  cautious.  His 
comrade  at  home,  may  here  have  work  on  hand  of  a  spe- 
cial character,  which  recognition  by  his  former  friend 


360  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OR, 

would  impede,  if  it  did  not  entirely  prevent,  its  being 
carried  out. 

"  However,  I  determined  to  renew  our  acquaintance, 
and  also  to  introduce  my  friend  to  them.  I  had  been 
looked  up  to — though  I  say  it  myself — as  a  sort  of  chief 
among  the  higher  order  of  blacklegs  and  gamblers,  and 
had  never  stuck  at  other  matters  which  required  a  degree 
of  cunning  and  daring  which  they  had  not  either  the 
mental  or  physical  capacity  to  execute,  and  I  determined, 
if  possible,  to  acquire  the  same  supremacy  there,  in  that 
distant  place  of  meeting. 

"I  had  full  faith  in  the  general  readiness  of  mankind 
to  be  led  by  those  who  have  once  acquired  any  powei 
over  them,  and  I  therefore  boldly  stepped  forward  and 
grasped  the  now  willingly  extended  hands  of  my  former 
friends. 

"•'  What  are  you  doing  here,  P ?'  was  the  first 

question  that  was  put  to  me,  as  soon  as  I  had  introduced 
my  friend,  and  a  few  common  place  remarks  had  passed 
between  us. 

"I  at  once,  openly  and  above  board,  told  of  the  diffi- 
culties and  embarrassments  with  which  I  had  temporarily 
fallen,  although  I  forbore  to  say  that  I  had  become  so 
weak-minded,  as  to  hope  to  obtain  my  living  as  an  hon- 
est man,  and  for  fear  they  should  judge  ill  of  my  want 
of  success,  I  attributed  my  present  difficulties  to  the  un- 
looked-for, and,  therefore,  impossible  to  be  avoided,  mon- 
etary crisis,  which  had  strangely  fallen  upon  a  country, 
in  the  soil  of  which  gold  so  plenteously  abounds ;  but  I 
expressed  a  hope  that  things  would  be  better  by-and-by. 

"  '  Have  you  rattled  the  dice  of  late  ?'  asked  one. 

"  I  replied  in  the  negative,  stating  that  so  completely 
had  I  been  prostrated,  that  I  had  not  even  the  means 
left  to  venture  upon  the  smallest  chance  with  the  cards 
or  dice. 

'' '  That  is  bad — bad,'  said  my  interolcutor,  '  but  we 
are  engaged  in  a  certain  business  in  which  a  place  shall 
be  found  for  you  if  you  are  willing  to  join  us,  and  to 
swear  secrecy  to  our  plans  beforehand,  and  without  ques- 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  361 

tioning,  or  the  power  of  withdrawing  afterwards,  upon 
peril  of  your  life.' 

" '  When  did  you  ever  know  me  to  quail  ?'  said  I, 
proudly  drawing  myself  up. 

"  'Never,  to  tell  the  truth,'  said  my  old  acquaintance, 
'  therefore  I  suppose  we  may  enrol  you  at  once  in  our  list.' 

"  '  But  my  friend  here'/'  said  I. 

"  '  Can  you  swear  to  his  firmness  ?' 

<;  'If  I  could  not,  he  were  no  friend  of  mine.' 

" '  Then  he  may  join  us  likewise ;  but  the  peril  is 
great,  although  the  gains  are  large,  likewise.  He  must 
have  no  scruples.' 

" '  As  my  friend,  he  will  have  none,'  I  replied,  and  so 
for  the  night  we  parted,  I  having  borrowed  a  few  dollars 
from  my  newly  found  friends  for  my  present  uses,  and  I 
promised  to  meet  them  at  a  hotel  in  the  city  at  a  specified 
hour  on  the  following  day. 

"  As  yet  I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  explain  my 
suspicions  to  my  companion,  as  to  the  nature  of  the  em- 
ployment, which  I  partially  surmised,  I  was  expected  to 
enter  into,  as  I  knew  he  was  so  situated,  that  once  mixed 
up  with  us,  I  could  easily  silence  any  qualms  of  con- 
science that  might  present  themselves  to  his  imagination  ; 
and,  therefore,  resorting  to  a  gambling  saloon  that  even- 
ing, for  the  first  time  since  my  arrival  in  California,  and 
there  passing  myself  off  as  a  green  hand,  I  managed,  in 
the  course  of  an  hour,  to  quadruple  the  handful  of  dol- 
lars I  had  lately  borrowed,  and  then,  while  luck  was  with 
me,  I  took  advantage  of  a  squabble  and  left  the  house. 
My  companion  did  not  play,  but  he  left  the  house  with 
me,  and  as  we  passed  to  our  wretched  lodging,  I  exult- 
ingly  displayed  my  winnings,  saying : — '  Here  is  proof 
sufficient  to  convince  any  wise  man  of  the  fallacy  of  the 
old  proverb,  "Honesty  is  the  best  policy."  Bah!  I 
should  like  to  hear  honesty  correctly  defined ;  each  man 
has  his  own  ideas  regarding  the  commodity,  and  I  guess 
that  quality  which  canting  fools  so  call,  is  scarce  with  us 
all,  and  most  scarce  with  those  who  make  the  loudest 
boasts  of  its  possession.' 

16 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

"And  yet,  I  replied,"  wrote  my  friend,  "for  I  was 
perfectly  astonished  at  the  coolness  and  audacity  of  tht 
villain,  who  thus  boasted  and  made  a  virtue  of  his  mis- 
deeds, 'yet  you  are  here,  yourself  a  sufficient  refutation 
of  the  abominable  principles  you  boast  of.  Had  you 
thought  honesty  the  best  policy,  and  acted  according  to 
the  well  known  and  oft  repeated  axiom,  you  would  not 
have  been  here  now,  charged  with  a  crime  of  great  mag- 
nitude, for  the  commission  of  which  you  will,  in  all  hu- 
man probability,  forfeit  your  life.' 

"'Ah,  ha!'  sneered  the  unruffled  seoundrel.  'My 
good  sir,  had  I  adhered  to  that  worn-out  schoolboy's 
uxiom,  the  probability  is,  that  instead  of  being  here  now, 
with  at  least  a  chance  of  escape  from  the  clutches  of  the 
law,  after  having  enjoyed  life,  for  my  favorite  maxim  ha? 
ever  been,  "  Live  to-day,  and  let  the  morrow  provide  for 
itself." — I  should  have  perished  from  starvation  at  San 
Francisco,  the  result  of  my  first  attempt  at  honesty.' 

"  '  You  surely  could  not  have  starved  while  you  had 
health  and  the  use  of  your  hands,"  replied  I. 

" '  Faugh !  work !'  replied  the  wretch  ;  '  work  and  I 
never  could  agree.  A  short  life  and  a  merry  one,  even 
if  it  be  ended  by  a  dance  beneath  the  gallows'  tree,  has 
ever  been  my  ambition.  I  am  not  the  man  to  grow  old 
in  poverty,  neither  do  I  set  the  value  on  my  life  that  your 
honest  folks  seeni  to  do.  I  have  risked  it  too  often  ;  nor 
yet  do  I  despair  even  now,  gloomy  as  things  look.  I 
have  got  out  of  as  bad  scrapes  before,  and  so  may  get 
out  of  this,  and  if  not,  why,  I  shall  show  no  white 
leather  on  the  day  on  which  I  make  my  jump  into  what 
you  croaking  creatures  call  eternity.  Depend  upon  that.' 

"  Seeing  that  the  man  was  irreclaimable,  and  that  it 
was  useless  to  argue  with  him,"  continued  my  friend,  in 
his  letter,  "  I  let  him  proceed  with  his  story,  or  rather  I 
may  call  it,  his  barefaced  confession  of  his  monstrous 
guilt — his  open  avowal  of  his  shame. 

"  He  continued : — 

"  '  The  next  day,  true  to  my  appointment,  I  met  my 
old  comrades  at  the  place  pointed  out,  and  was  there  in- 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  863 

itiated  into  the  secret  business  they  were  carrying  on,  as 
they  affirmed,  and  as  was  indeed  evident  from  their  ap- 
pearance, with  the  utmost  success. 

"  They  had  established  a  regular  gang,  thoroughly 
organized,  consisting  of  men  of  every  profession  and  of 
every  scale  in  social  life,  whom  crime,  as  the  world  calls 
it,  had  reduced  to  a  level. 

"Among  them  were  two  or  three  miners — rough,  hard- 
fisted  fellows,  who  were  quite  capable  of  groping  in  the 
diggings  for  themselves ;  but  who  wisely  thought  that 
since  every  living  thing  in  this  world  preyed  upon  others, 
it  was  all  the  better  if,  while  digging  for  themselves,  they 
could  so  manage  as  to  make  others  work  for  them  at  the 
same  time,  and  clutch  their  gains.  One  of  these  fellows 
was  a  Cornish  miner,  who  had  some  years  previously 
emigrated  from  England  to  Peru  ;  his  skill  in  the  dis- 
covery of  good  working  ground  was  freely  acknowledged, 
and  it  was  perfectly  easy  for  him,  assisted  by  his  miner 
comrades,  to  collect  a  large  gang  around  him,  who  were 
anxious  to  be  guided  by  the  other's  experience  ;  and  the 
skill  of  the  regular  miners,  as  skill  of  any  kind  always 
does,  soon  enabled  them  to  exercise  perfect  control  over 
their  less  skilful  companions. 

"Just  then  they  were  busy  at  Toulumne  River,  at 
which  place  some  rich  ground  had  been  lately  struck, 
and  consequently  I  was  not  introduced  personally  to 
them. 

"  It  appeared  that  the  miners  at  Toulumne  River  dis- 
posed of  a  good  deal  of  their  gold  dust  at  Stockton,  that 
town  being  the  nearest  place  of  any  note,  to  the  mines 
they  were  working.  Accordingly,  at  Stockton  two  others 
of  the  gang  who  had  in  former  days  kept  rum-holes  in 
the  purlieus  of  New  York,  now  kept  grog-shops,  to  which 
of  course  the  miners  in  connection  with  them,  led  their 
unsuspecting  comrades,  and  assisted  in  drugging  them 
and  robbing  them  of  their  hard-earned  gains.  Another 
one  kept  a  gambling  saloon  in  the  same  place,  and  here 
the  few  that  would  not  drink  their  senses  away,  were 
more  readily  fleeced  by  means  of  dice  and  cards.  So, 


864  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;   OB, 

aome  one  or  other  of  the  gang  were  engaged  as  keepers 
of  every  seductive  place  of  amusement  and  debauchery ; 
and,  among  them  all,  it  was  not  a  very  difficult  mutter  to 
turn  the  whole  profits  of  the  miners  into  one  till,  which 
was  the  strong  box  of  the  confederates.  Sometimes, 
however,  they  had  a  contumacious  hand  to  deal  with,  who 
could  not  be  persuaded  either  to  drink  or  to  gamble,  nor 
yet  could  be  enticed  into  the  still  more  degrading  dens. 
These  men  accordingly,  deposited  their  store  of  "  dust" 
in  safety,  for  the  first  time  ;  but  they  were  marked  men, 
and  some  how  or  other — of  course  by  accident — on  the 
next  trip  of  the  band  into  the  town  from  the  mines,  these 
fellows  always  -managed  to  stray  from  the  track,  and 
were  surprised  and  murdered  by  the  Indians,  as  was  sup- 
posed by  their  comrades ;  though  it  is  needless  to  say 
their  gains  for  the  second  trip,  always  found  their  way 
into  the  strong  box. 

"  By  these  and  such  like  means  a  vast  amount  of  wealth 
had  already  been  realized  by  the  confederates — some  of 
whom  had  come  down  to  San  Francisco  on  a  visit,  at  the 
time  I  fell  in  with  them,  and  knowing  me  to  be  a  perfect 
master  in  all  kind  of  gambling  deceptions,  they  wished 
me  to  join  the  gambling  concern  at  Stockton  ;  and,  as  I 
have  said,  I  consented,  only  stipulating  that,  as  I  was 
confident  I  could  fleece  hundreds  of  others  besides  the 
victims  of  our  own  gang,  I  should  be  at  once  admitted  to 
a  full  share  of  the  wealth  already  secured,  and  that  my 
companion  should  also  join  us,  as  after  his  first  qualms 
of  conscience  were  over,  if  indeed  he  showed  any,  and  to 
do  him  justice,  his  qualms  were  very  few,  we  could  make 
use  of  him  as  a  decoy  duck  in  some  way  or  other. 

"This  having  been  arranged,  we  started  in  a  few  days 
for  our  place  of  destination,  and  for  a  few  months  all 
went  on  swimmingly,  and  so  it  might  have  done  to  this 
day ;  but  the  d — 1  persuaded  me  to  take  a  trip  to  the 
mines  myself,  sometime  after  I  had  been  engaged  in  the 
gambling  house,  and  after  our  friends  at  the  mines  had 
paid  us  a  visit,  and  poor  simple  fools,  had  been  fleeced 
and  sent  back  with  empty  pouches,  to  fill  them  again  by 


STKAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  365 

dint  of  hard  labor  and  harder  fare,  little  thinking  to 
whose  coffers  those  piles  of  '  dust'  had  gone. 

"  While  up  there,  a  steady  chap  from  Louisiana  joined 
us.  He  was  a  Frenchman  by  birth ;  but  had  resided  in 
Louisiana  from  childhood,  and  like  many  other  people 
from  every  State  of  the  Union,  and  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  he  had  been  seized  with  the  gold  fever,  and  al- 
though a  pretty  substantial  tradesman,  and  well  advanced 
in  years,  he  had  sold  all,  and  taken  this  trip  to  Califor- 
nia, as  he  supposed,  to  make  his  fortune. 

"  He  was  abundantly  supplied  with  every  requisite  for 
the  work  he  had  to  perform,  and  hearing  of  the  skill  of 
the  Cornish  miner  who  headed  our  gang ;  for  although 
we  were  such  a  wild  settiiat  we  were  always  fleeced  when  we 
took  our  customary  recreative  trip  to  Stockton,  we  always 
managed  to  carry  in  a  good  store  of  '  dust'  every  trip,  he 
solicited  and  obtained  permission  to  join  us. 

"  It  was  soon  evident  enough  to  me  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  our  making  anything  of  this  fellow.  He  was  a 
hard-headed,  steady-going  old  man,  who  spent  all  his 
leisure  hours  reading  his  Bible,  and  writing  home  to  his 
friends,  and  I,  as  well  as  others  of  the  confederates,  were 
rather  annoyed  at  the  idea  of  the  sneak  escaping  even  for 
once,  as  we  knew  he  had  a  good  store  of  '  dust'  in  his 
pouch.  So,  somehow  or  other,  on  the  way  down,  he  and 
I  got  adrift  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  were  sur- 
rounded by  Indians,  who  attacked  us  and  robbed  and 
murdered  the  Frenchman.  I  managed  to  escape,  and 
reached  my  companions  in  safety ;  but  when  we  arrived 
at  Stockton,  we  found  that  the  Frenchman  had  friends 
there,  who  would  not  be  persuaded  that  the  old  fellow 
had  lost  his  life  through  the  Indians.  They  insisted  that 
I  should  be  held  for  examination  respecting  this  affair,  as 
I  was  last  seen  in  the  company  of  the  murdered  man,  and 
as  stories  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  were  exagger- 
ated, things  at  last  looked  so  serious,  that  upon  consulta- 
tion with  my  friends,  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
wisest  plan  to  escape  Judge  Lynch,  who  was  hovering 
upon  our  skirts,  would  be  for  me  to  make  tracks  for  the 


366  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

Atlantic  States,  and  for  the  confederacy  to  break  up  and 
scatter,  for  a  while.  Therefore,  after  sharing  the  pro 
ceeds  of  our  industry,  we  all  fled  in  different  directions, 
I  making  all  possible  speed  to  place  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains between  me  and  the  blood-hounds  who  were  in 
search  of  me. 

"  I  made  my  way  to  New  Orleans,  where  I  picked  up 
an  old  acquaintance,  and  having  a  pretty  good  stock  of 
cash,  I  determined  to  enjoy  myself  for  some  months.  1 
traveled  through  the  Northern  States,  stopped  for  a  short 
time  at  the  principal  watering-places,  and  was  going  on 
very  comfortably,  when  some  more  of  the  unlucky 
Frenchman's  friends,  who  seemed  to  be  as  thick  and  re- 
vengeful as  a  nest  of  hornets,  and  who  resided  in  Texas, 
some  how  or  other  got  wind  of  me,  and  trumping  UD 
some  ridiculous  story  about  murder,  threw  me  into  jail 
at  this  place ;  but  d — n  _  them,  I'll  get  out  of  their 
clutches  yet,  and  only  let  me  do  that,  and  then  for  re- 
venge." 

"  The  villain  stopped  here,"  wrote  my  friend,  "  and 
seemed  to  be  indulging  in  some  imaginary  revenge,  as  he 
sat  clenching  his  fists  and  grinding  his  teeth,  a  sardonic 
smile  resting  upon  his  sallow  but  handsome  features.  I 
was  vexed  that  he  had  not  spoken  more  about  '  Mason* 
— as  I  see  you  call  him  in  your  letters,  and  also  that  he 
had  not  mentioned  anything  directly  respecting  either 
of  the  women.  I  knew  so  little  of  the  case  that  it  was 
a  difficult  matter  to  cross-question  him ;  besides  he  had 
voluntarily  given  me  some  information  and  I  thought 
perhaps  through  the  same  means  I  might  obtain  more, 
and  then  again  I  feared  that  if  I  used  threats  or  even 
appeared  very  anxious,  he  might  choose  to  keep  silent 
altogether,  for  as  yet  he  only  thought  me  interested  in 
the  vile  woman  who  is  his  fellow  prisoner,  or,  I  should 
say,  who  is  confined  in  the  female  ward  of  the  same  jail 
at  this  place.  However,  I  determined  to  risk  something, 
and  I  asked  whether  he  and  his  friend  Mason  had  not 
left  their  wives  behind  them  at  New  York,  when  they 
started  for  California,  and  whether  his  wife  was  aware 


STKAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  367 

of  his  present  difficulty;  also  whether  Mason  had  remain- 
ed in  California  or  had  returned  to  his  wife? 

"  I  was  wrong  in  doing  this,  and  I  saw  my  mistake  in 
a  moment.  The  fellow  glanced  at  me  with  his  keen,  dark 
eyes,  as  though  he  would  read  my  inmost  thoughts,  and 
then,  after  muttering  '  so  they  have  set  you  on  the  scent, 
have  they  ?  I  was  a  fool  to  say  what  I  have  said,  but 
I've  kept  on  the  dark  side  yet.'  He  became  sullen  and 
taciturn,  and  though  I  have  seen  him  once  or  twice  since, 
I  can  get  nothing  further  from  him.  His  trial  shortly 
comes  on,  and  though  I  feel  bound  not  to  make  use  of 
any  information  received  directly  from  himself,  yet  I 
shall  watch  narrowly  the  proceedings,  and  if  anything  is 
brought  forward  openly  in  court  respecting  the  connec- 
tion of  Mr.  Mason  and  the  girl  you  call  Adele  with  the 
prisoner,  I  shall  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  any  know- 
ledge I  have  already  gained  or  any  further  information 
that  you  may  send  me,  by  coming  forward  as  a  witness 
in  the  case. 

"  As  I  have  hinted  in  the  beginning  of  this  letter,  I 
have  strong  suspicions  that  the  ten  thousand  dollars 
spoken  of  by  the  prisoner,  has  something  to  do  with  the 
Incarceration  of  Miss  Adele.  What  do  you  think  of 
confronting  her  with  the  prisoner  after  the  trial  ? — she 
would  not  be  able  to  reach  here  before — but  perhaps  by 
that  means  we  might  be  able  to  terrify  a  full  confession 
respecting  the  fate  of  Mason  and  his  poor  innocent 
victims. 

"  I  should  think  from  the  letters  of  Adele  that  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  former  affection  she  felt  for  P — , 
she  would  not  now  shrink  from  anything  that  would 
lead  to  the  clearing  up  of  this  mysterious  business.  Let 
me  hear  from  you  shortly — as  soon,  indeed,  as  possible — 
and  tell  me  whether  you  have  managed  to  obtain  the 
release  of  the  poor  young  woman  from  the  Lunatic  Asy- 
lum." *  *  *-  -  •*  *  *  *  * 

The  abovi1  extracts  from  my  friend's  letter  I  have 
copied  word  for  word  as  it  now  lies  before  me,  and  after 
perusing  it,  I  was  almost  inclined  to  think  it  advisable 


THE   OLD   DOCTOR  ;    OR, 

for  Miss  T to  visit  Galveston,  and  confront  the  mis 

erable  seducer,  robber  and — as  he  had  even  half  hinted 
himself — the  cowardly  murderer.  I  was  only  sorry  that 
she  could  not  be  there  at  the  trial  as  one  of  the  witnesses 
against  him.  If  she  could  be  persuaded  to  appear  as 
such,  and  from  her  present  state  of  feeling  I  had  no 
doubt  she  would  have  no  objection,  could  her  real  name 
be  kept  secret,  and  that  would  not  be  difficult  to  manage 
in  an  out  of  the  way  place  like  Galveston,  of  which  so 
little  is  now  heard  and  of  which  less  was  heard  a  year  or 
two  since,  in  the  more  settled  portions  of  the  Union,  much 
I  thought  might  be  learnt  that  was  involved  in  mystery. 

The  only  additional  information  that  we  received 
through  the  female  prisoner,  was  that  Mason  had  left 
California  shortly  after  P had  done  so,  and  had  ac- 
tually been  in  the  neighborhood  of  New  York  about  the 
time  of  Mrs.  Mason  and  the  child's  strange  disappear- 
ance, and  that  she  believed  that  he  was  still  hanging 
about  either  in  some  part  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania 

or  in  New  York.  This  she  had  gleaned  from  P 's 

conversation  with  her  before  they  were  separated.  Of 

course,  therefore,  knowing  that  P would  not  have 

hesitated  to  tell  her  any  falsehood  to  suit  his  own  infa- 
mous purposes,  and  knowing  also  the  bitter  animosity 
she  now  felt  towards  him,  whom  she  blamed  for  bringing 
her  from  New  Orleans  and  causing  all  her  present  troubles, 
information  thus  derived  was  to  be  received  cum  grano 
salis,  especially  when  the  characters  of  both  parties  were 
taken  into  consideration.  Nevertheless,  it  tallied  so  well 
with  prior  information  received  that  I  was  willing  to 
believe  that  it  was  true. 

The  scraps  from  the  California  newspapers,  already 

mentioned  as  being  in  the  possession  of  Miss  T- ,  had 

considerable  light  thrown  upon  them  by  this  revelation 

"especting  the  occupation  of  P and  Mason  and  their 

confederates  in  California,  given  by  the  former  through 
my  friend  at  Galveston.  It  was  singular  to  note  how 
from  one  obscure  paragraph,  which  might  or  might  not 
have  referred  to  P and  Mason,  but  which  the  pene 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  369 

tration  of  Miss  T had  discovered  did  really  refer  to 

them,  this  young  woman  had  traced  the  whole  course 
of  their  operations  almost  from  the  day  they  had  formed 
the  desperate  gang. 

She  had  remarked  a  change  in  the  tone  of  P V 

and  Mason's  letters,  and  had  been  shocked  at  the  reck- 
lessness of  language  displayed  subsequently  to  the  loss 
they  had  experienced  in  business,  and  though  she  had 
withheld  her  suspicions  from  Mrs.  Mason,  she  had  watch- 
ed with  eager  anxiety  the  Californian  news.  A  mail 

arrived  bringing  a  letter  from  P and  also  one  from 

Mason.  At  the  same  time  a  paragraph  appeared  detail- 
ing certain  particulars  respecting  parties  who  were  looked 
upon  with  suspicion,  and  some  remarks  were  made  upon 
a  systematic  plan  of  robbery  supposed  to  exist ;  but  which 
at  present  it  was  impossible  to  detect.  Some  chance  ex- 
pression in  P 's  letter  aroused  her  suspicions,  and  she 

looked  at  the  post  mark  and  date  of  the  letter  and  found 
it  to  have  been  written  from  the  locality  pointed  out  in 
the  newspaper.  From  that  period  she  had  watched  care- 
fully every  mail  arrival  and  had  cut  out  every  paragraph 
relating  as  she  imagined  to  the  same  matter,  and  thus 
her  album,  could  it  have  been  produced  in  a  court  where- 
in P and  Mason  were  jointly  tried  for  the  crimes 

they  had  been  guilty  of,  would  have  afforded  one  con- 
tinuous, unbroken  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  I  received  another  letter 

from  my  friend,  informing  me  thatP 's  trial  had  come 

off,  and  that  he  was  found  guilty,  upon  the  most  conclu- 
sive evidence,  of  the  murder  of  the  Frenchman.  There 
were  several  other  counts  of  outrage  and  robbery  held 
against  him,  in  order  to  detain  him  should  he  chance  to 
get  clear  of  the  capital  charge  ;  but  of  course  these  were 

now  withdrawn.     P was  sentenced  to  be  hanged  six 

weeks  after  the  day  of  his  trial.  Since  his  conviction  he 
had  remained  sullen  and  taciturn,  and  not  a  word  had 
escaped  his  lips  relative  to  his  former  life.  "  He  appeared," 
wrote  my  friend,  "  determined  to  die  as  he  had  lived,  a 
hardened,  God-forsaken  wretch." 

16* 


870  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OB, 

The  female  prisoner  had  been  acquitted.  In  fact  there 
was  no  evidence  against  her  to  warrant  her  detention, 
and  the  grand  jury  had  ignored  the  bill  against  her. 

Having  now  no  doubt  on  my  mind  that  Mason  had 
been  guilty  of  the  murder  of  his  wife,  I  determined  tc 
set  to  work  at  once  in  ferreting  him  out.  I  carefully 
scanned  the  various  newspapers,  especially  those  from 
the  West,  in  which  portion  of  the  Union  I  had  some 
idea  that  Mason  was  secreted ;  but  for  a  long  time  with- 
out success.  In  fact,  it  was  something  of  a  wild  goose 
chase  that  I  had  ventured  upon,  and  it  is  little  to  be 
wondered  at  that  I  was  so  long  unsuccessful ;  indeed  it 
was  owing  entirely  to  one  of  those  strange  chances  which 
almost  appear  as  though  they  were  special  interpositions 
of  Providence,  for  the  attainment  of  certain  purposes, 
that  after  a  length  of  time  had  elapsed,  I  at  length  suc- 
ceeded in  discovering  the  object  of  my  search. 

I  was  one  day  surprised  hy  a  visit  from  Mrs.  W — ,  who 
requested  to  see  me  alone.  I  say  surprised,  because  there 
was  evidently  some  greater  anxiety  than  usual  weighing 
upon  the  mind  of  the  old  lady,  as  was  apparent  by  the  agi- 
tation which  she  betrayed  on  being  shown  into  my  study. 

After  having  requested  her  to  be  seated,  and  waiting 
some  minutes,  in  order  to  give  her  time  to  recover  from 
her  emotion,  I  asked  her,  in  an  apparently  unconcerned 
manner,  whether  she  had  heard  anything  further  respect- 
ing her  daughter. 

She  silently  drew  forth  a  letter  from  her  pocket  and 
placed  it  in  my  hand.  I  examined  the  envelope  and 
found  that  it  had  passed  through  two  or  three  post  offices 
before  reaching  its  destination,  and  on  taking  the  letter 
from  the  cover,  I  saw  that  it  was  ante-dated  three  weeks. 

It  was  simply  directed  to  Mrs.  W ,  Brooklyn,  and 

the  original  post-mark  had  beeen  stamped  in  Ohio.  The 
letter,  it  appeared  from  post-marks  which  had  been  subse- 
quently stamped  upon  it,  had  been  sent  to  Brooklyn,  N. 
Y.,  and  not  being  claimed,  had  been  forwarded  to  other 
places  of  that  name  in  other  States,  and  again  returned 
to  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  where  a  friend  of  Mrs.  W 's  had 


STRAY   LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  371 

seen  it  at  the  post-office,  and  had  suggested  to  Mrs.  W 

that  she  should  call  for  and  open  it  and  see  if  it  -was 
really  intended  for  her. 

She  did  so,  and  found  that  it  was,  as  she  imagined, 
nay,  as  there  was  little  reason  to  doubt,  from  the  seducer 
of  her  child,  although  there  was  no  name  attached,  and 
the  locality  whence  it  was  written  was  not  named.  The 
letter  was  couched  in  strange  language,  and,  as  I  perused 
it,  I  had  my  suspicions  strongly  confirmed,  that  the 
writer  (Mason)  was  laboring  under  insanity.  No  wonder 
the  poor  lady  was  agitated,  for  the  writer  had  acknowl- 
edged in  the  first  portion  of  the  letter,  that  he  was  mar- 
ried to  her  daughter,  and  he  then  went  on  to  express  his 
deep  sorrow  at  the  subterfuge  he  had  employed  to  gain 
her  affections.  He  hinted  that  she  and  her  child  (his 
child)  were  dead,  and  that  he  should  speedily  join  them 
(he  hoped)  in  a  better  world,  and  then  he  broke  out  into  a 
strain  of  incoherency  something  resembling  that  related  by 

P ,  to  have  taken  place  during  the  interviews  he  hau 

holden  with  him  subsequently  to  his  return  from  California. 

He  spoke  of  visions  by  day  and  visions  by  night  in 
which  the  forms  of  Mary  and  the  child  appeared  to  him, 
sometimes  in  anger,  sometimes  in  pity.  He  told  how  he 
conversed  with  Mary,  and  how  she  told  him  that  he 
should  soon  rejoin  her  in  a  better  world,  and  that  he  must 
write  to  her  mother  and  bid  her  prepare  to  rejoin  her 
likewise ;  but  even  while  she  spoke — a  grim-visaged 
devil — the  self  same  demon,  who  had  leaped  into  the 
nragon  and  urged  him  to  strike  the  blow  which  caused 
Mary's  death,  stood  by  and  "  glanced  between  the  cur- 
tains of  the  bed  with  his  eyes  of  molten  fire,  that  scorched 
to  the  very  heart  and  seemed  to  dry  up  the  blood  and 
wither  the  muscles  of  the  beholder — that  self  same  de- 
mon," he  repeated,  "  stood  by  and  mocked  and  jeered 
and  gibbered,  and  pointed  a  skeleton  finger  towards  a 
yawning  pit  whence  issued  sulphurous  smoke  and  lurid 
flame,  and  from  the  mouth  of  which  escaped  the  shrieks 
and  bowlings  and  impotent  curses  of  the  damned,  and 
this  pit  stood,  too  broad  for  him  to  leap,  between  him 


THE   OLD   DOCTOR;    OK, 

and  the  vision  of  his  beatified  wife  and  child.  To  that 
fiery  abode,"  he  continued,  "  he  felt  that  he  was  eternally 
doomed,  for  he  already  felt  the  unutterable  anguish  of 
internal  burning  in  his  blood,  and  frightful  gnawing  in 
his  bones — the  calls  of  his  wife  and  child  were  in  vain 
— nothing  but  hell  awaited  him — the  horrors  of  hell  in 
life ;  the  pains  of  hell  in  death,  the  perpetual  remorse, 
agony,  anguish  and  despair  that  exist  with  the  damned 
forever,  and  ever — and  ever. 

In  such  frightful  language  was  the  letter  couched,  that 
my  blood  ran  cold  as  I  read  it,  and  endeavored  to  realize 
what  must  be  the  feelings  of  the  writer.  No  wonder 

poor  Mrs.  W was  fearfully  agitated.     She  said  that 

she  had  made  several  attempts  to  read  the  letter  before 
she  could  muster  courage  to  go  through  with  it,  and  even 
after  she  had  perused  it,  it  was  some  time  before  she 
could  reconcile  herself  to  allow  any  one  else  to  see  it. 
However,  she  thought  that  possibly  I  might  wish  to  see 
the  letter,  as  it  might,  in  some  way,  assist  me  in  my  en- 
deavors to  discover  the  author  of  her  poor  girl's  misfor- 
tunes, and  therefore  she  had  decided  upon  bringing  it  to 
me. 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  373 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII. 

MONTHS  passed  away,  and  Miss  T wearied  of  the 

Atlantic  States,  where  misfortune  had  crowded  upon  her, 
decided  to  go  to  California,  and  there,  with  the  property 
she  had  still  left,  to  establish  a  millinery  business.  It 
seemed  almost  providential  that  she  did  so — for  by  that 
visit,  and  through  her  means,  the  mystery  respecting  the 
strange  disappearance  of  Mrs.  Mason,  was  eventually 
cleared  up.  Some  months  after  she  had  gone,  I  received 
a  letter  from  her,  stating  that  she  was  getting  on  admira- 
bly with  her  new  business;  but  the  letter  also  contained 
information  that  perfectly  startled  me,  as  it  will,  I  have 
no  doubt,  greatly  astonish  the  reader.  I  will  publish 
those  portions  of  the  letter  which  did  not  allude  to  mere 
personal  matters,  possessing  no  interest  to  any  one  but 
ourselves.  They  run  as  follows  : 

"SACRAMENTO,  CALIFORNIA, 


"  And  now,  my  dear  sir,  I  have  a  strange  disclosure 
to  make.  You  will  think  I  am  writing  under  the  influ- 
ence of  some  optical  or  mental  delusion,  I  fear ;  but  I  am 
well  satisfied  that  what  I  am  about  to  state,  is  correct. — 
At  first,  I  was  doubtful  myself.  I  thought  my  eyes  or 
my  senses  had  deceived  me,  and  although  at  the  time  1 
was  on  the  point  of  writing  to  you,  I  purposely  delayed 
my  letter  until  I  had  made  myself  sure  of  the  truth  of 
what  I  then  deemed  an  illusion.  I  have  seen  Mary  Ma- 
son— Mary  Mason  alive,  and  apparently  in  health;  but 
greatly  different  from  her  former  self — so  haggard,  so 
care-worn,  that  her  mother  would  scarcely  have  known 
her.  I  should  not  have  recognized  her  at  first,  but  by 
her  voice.  I  heard  her  speak,  and  I  knew  the  tone  of 
ner  voice  immediately.  In  that  I  could  not  be  deceived. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

I  thought,  and  subsequently  I  found  I  was  right.  Since 
then  I  have  spoken  with  her ;  for  she  is  now  in  the  city 
of  Sacramento,  and  about  to  take  up  her  residence  here 
at  least  temporarily.  I  have  mentioned,  in  the  com* 
mencement  of  my  letter,  that  Mason  had  perished  in  a 
drunken  brawl  with  some  of  the  wretched  set  with  whom 
he  had  become  mixed  up  in  this  State.  However,  I  will 
give  you  the  particulars  in  detail. 

"About  six  weeks  ago,  I  was  one  morning  about 
taking  the  steamer  to  proceed  to  San  Francisco,  on  matters 
connected  with  my  business.  The  vessel  was  on  the 
point  of  starting,  when  she  was  momentarily  delayed  in 
the  stream,  in  consequence  of  the  arrival  of  a  steamer 
from  that  port.  The  steamer  passed  close  by  us,  very 
slowly,  and  so  near  that  any  person  might  have  jumped 
on  board  of  her  from  our  vessel. 

"  She  was  pretty  full  of  passengers,  who  were  seated 
on  the  benches  on  her  after-deck.  I  was  with  natural 
curiosity  scrutinizing  the  appearance  of  the  passengers ; 
for  one  meets  here  with  such  singular  contre  temps,  and 
sees  so  many  faces  which  look  like  those  one  has  met 
with  before,  in  the  old  States  and  cities  of  the  Union, 
often  so  changed,  apparently,  in  circumstances,  that  there 
is  more  than  ordinary  interest  felt  in  the  arrival  of  a  pas- 
senger vessel. 

"  I  had  searchingly  scanned  nearly  all  the  passengers 
on  board,  without  having  on  this  occasion  recognized  any 
one,  even  in  fancy,  when,  just  as  the  vessel  cleared  us, 
and  both  the  steamers  were  in  motion,  the  figure  of  a  fe- 
male, who  had  just  come  up  from  the  cabin,  arrested  my 
attention.  It  was  as  like  Mary  Mason,  in  height  and 
general  outline,  as  could  possibly  be ;  nay,  the  walk  was 
the  same,  and  every  gesture  reminded  me  of  one  I  knew 
so  well,  and  whose  unfortunate  history  was  so  well 
known — whose  memory  was  so  dear  to  me.  As  yet  I 
had  not  seen  her  face ;  but  a  slight  motion  of  the  paddle 
wheels  of  the  steamer,  enabled  me  to  look  her  full  in  the 
face,  and  to  my  astonishment — I  may  almost  add  to  my 
terror  ;  for  I  thought  at  the  moment  that  Mary  had  risen 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  375 

from  her  watery  grave — the  face,  too,  was  that  of  Mary 
Mason!  But,  how  care-worn,  how  prematurely  agedj 
'No,'  thought  I — 'it  cannot  be  she;  and  yet,  what-  a 
striking  resemblance,  setting  aside  the  disparity  of  years.' 
For  the  female  before  me,  looked  at  least  forty-five  years 
of  age. 

"  She  did  not  observe  me  ;  for  her  eyes  were  cast  down 
upon  the  deck,  and  she  took  a  seat  and  looked  over  the 
side  of  the  steamer,  leaning  her  elbow  on  the  rail.  Sud- 
denly one  of  the  waiters  addressed  her,  apparently  with 
relation  to  some  baggage ;  for  he  held  a  carpet-bag  in  his 
hand,  and  again  she  turned  her  face  full  towards  me,  and 
replied  to  him,  stating  that  the  bag  was  hers,  and  desir- 
ing him  to  see  to  the  remainder  of  her  luggage. 

"  I  could  no  longer  be  mistaken  ;  for  the  voice  was  un- 
deniably that  of  Mary,  and  I  called  aloud  to  her  by 
name.  She  looked  up — a  proof  that  I  had  not  been  de- 
ceived ;  but,  just  then  the  steamer  shoved  off,  and  in  a 
few  moments  we  were  widely  separated. 

"  This  singular,  apparently  supernatural  rencontre, 
dispossessed  my  mind  for  business,  and  though  I  could 
not  now  return,  I  determined  to  start  back  again  from 
San  Francisco,  as  soon  as  1  arrived,  placing  my  affairs  in 
some  other  person's  hands,  instead  of  remaining  there 
several  weeks,  as  had  been  my  original  intention.  I  did 
so,  and  was  in  a  very  short  time  back  again  in  Sacra- 
mento. 

"  My  first  movement,  on  stepping  on  shore,  was  to 
visit  the  hotels,  and  see  if  any  one  answering  the  name 
or  description,  was  stopping  there  ;  but  though  I  searched 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  I  could  not  discover  her. 
One  person,  indeed,  told  me  that  a  lady  answering  the 
description  of  Mary,  had  stayed  a  few  days  at  his  hotel ; 
but  she  had  gone  away,  he  believed,  to  Stockton,  but  he 
was  not  certain.  This  intelligence  I  did  not  deem  satis- 
factory, and  I  almost  began,  as  I  have  said,  to  doubt 
whether  the  whole  affair  had  not  been  either  a  mental 
hallucination  or  an  optical  delusion.  Still,  it  was  so 
strongly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  that  I  determined  to 


876  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

advertise  ambiguously,  yet  in  such  a  manner  that  if  the 
advertisement  came  to  the  notice  of  Mrs.  Mason,  she 
could  not  fail  to  recognize  it,  and  I  doubted  not,  would 
reply  to  it ;  as  I  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  were 
my  old  and  dear  friend,  my  more  than  sister,  still  living, 
and  so  near  me,  she  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  and  happy 
in  the  opportunity  that  would  be  thus  afforded  to  both 
of  us,  of  pouring  out  our  mutual  sorrows  in  each  other's 
ears. 

"  Days  and  weeks  passed  anxiously  away — oh,  how 
anxiously !  but  nothing  came  of  my  advertisement,  al- 
though I  diligently  searched  the  columns  of  every  news- 
paper I  came  across,  from  all  parts  of  the  State,  in  the 
hope — every  day  growing  more  and  more  faint — that  I 
should  see  some  notice  taken  of  it  by  Mary.  At  length 
I  gave  up  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  reply,  and  had  almost 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  my  suspicions  were  correct, 
and  that  my  fancy  had  deceived  me,  when  one  morning, 
just  after  1  had  opened  my  store,  a  note  was  placed  in  my 
hand  by  a  colored  girl,  who  said  she  had  been  directed 

to  give  it  to  me,  by  a  lady  who  was  stopping  at  the 

hotel. 

"  My  heart  beat  so  violently,  and  my  hands  trembled 
so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  open  the  note,  for 
I  thought  I  recognized  the  hand-writing,  and  leaving  the 
girl  in  the  store,  I  retired  to  my  private  room  to  read  it. 

"  Judge,  doctor,  of  my  feelings,  when  I  found  that  it 
was  really  written  by  Mrs.  Mason ;  that  she  had  seen  my 
advertisement  in  a  paper  at  Stockton,  and  had  thought 
that  it  could  have  been  no  other  person  but  me. 

"  She  was  the  more  convinced  of  this  in  consequence, 
as  she  stated  in  the  note,  of  my  voice  having  struck  her 
when  I  had  called  her  by  name  from  on  board  the 
steamer.  She  was  now,  she  said,  stopping  at  the  hotel 
from  which  the  note  was  directed,  where  she  begged  me 
to  call  and  see  her  immediately,  if  possible,  or  at  all 
events,  in  the  course  of  the  day.  She  added  that  she 

was  now  going  by  the  name  of  W ,  her  maiden  name, 

and  the  name  of  Miss  W ,  was  entered  in  the  hotel 


STRAY  .LEAVES   FROM   MY  JOURNAL.  377 

books — thus  accounting  for  my  not  havingfound  the  name 
of  Mason  in  the  course  of  my  research  among  the  books 
of  the  various  hotels.  '  The  name  of  Mason/  she  added, 
'  which  was  linked  with  all  the  misfortunes  and  horrors 
she  had  passed  through  in  her  short  life,  she  had  dropped 
forever,  and  she  begged  that  I  would  no  longer  address 
her  by  it.'  She  entered  into  no  details  beyond  this,  and 
telling  the  girl  to  say  that  I  would  call  in  the  course  of 
an  hour,  I  set  about  preparing  myself  for  the  painful,  yet 
joyful  visit. 

"It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  obtain  sufficient 
command  over  myself  to  gain  courage  for  the  anticipated 
meeting ;  but  at  length  I  dressed  myself  and  set  out  fo? 
the  hotel. 

"  I  will  not  waste  my  time  and  space  by  attempting  to 
describe  the  meeting  with  my  long  lost,  and,  as  I  thought, 
my  deceased  friend  and  sister  in  affection  as  well  as  in 
misfortune.  It  was  a  long  time  before  either  of  us 
became  sufficiently  composed  to  explain  matters  to  each 
other. 

"  At  length  Mary  did  so  in  the  following  words — al- 
though I  have  omitted  much  in  her  narrative  that,  from 
what  has  passed  between  us,  I  am  inclined  to  think  you 
are  already  acquainted  with. 

"  She  said  that  on  the  night  when  we  put  up  at  the 
road-side  inn,  after  having  been  brought  from  our  resi- 
dence in  New  York  to  meet  Mason  by  P ,  she,  when 

just  on  the  point  of  retiring  to  rest,  discovered  by  some 
papers  that  fell  casually  into  her  hand  that  she  had  been 
legally  married  by  Mason,  and  therefore  was  entitled  to 
the  name  and  to  the  position  of  his  wife. 

"  On  making  this  discovery  she  was  so  overcome  by  a 
variety  of  conflicting  emotions  that  she  could  not  forbear 
shrieking  aloud,  and  felt  on  the  point  of  fainting,  when 
Mason  sprang  towards  her  and  with  a  horrid  curse  on 
his  lips,  struck  her  a  blow  which  rendered  her  insensible. 

"She  recollected  nothing  further  until,  revived  by  the 
cold  night  air,  she  found  that  she  was  seated  in  a  carriage 
with  her  husband  and  child.  Mason  was  raving  as 


878  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

though  he  were  out  of  his  senses,  and  he  urged  on  the 
horse  furiously  as  if  seeking  to  escape  from  some  imagi- 
nary enemy.  Suddenly  he  drew  up,  and  snatching  the 
child  from  her  arms,  he  struck  her  a  blow  which  again 
rendered  her  senseless,  and  when  she  again  recovered  she 
found  herself  floating  on  the  waters  of  a  narrow  river, 
buoyed  up  by  her  clothing.  With  considerable  difficulty 
she  managed  to  scramble  on  shore  and  then  she  looked 
anxiously  yet  fearfully  around  her.  For  a  long  time  she 
could  not  recollect  herself,  nor  call  to  mind  how  she 
came  to  be  in  her  present  plight.  At  length  her  recol- 
lection was  gradually  restored,  and  then  she  thought  of 
her  child;  whither  was  he  gone?  Had  he,  too,  been 
thrown  into  the  river  by  his  remorseless  and  cruel  father, 
or  had  he  been  carried  off? 

"  At  all  events  all  traces  of  the  carriage  containing 
Mason  and  the  child  had  disappeared,  and  the  unfortu- 
nate creature  managed  by  some  means — she  herself  knew 
not  how — to  crawl  along  the  river's  bank  until  early  in 
the  following  day  she  found  herself  in  the  neighborhood 

of  the  town  of .     It  was  then,  for  the  first  time,  she 

thought  of  her  wretched  figure. 

"  Her  clothing,  it  is  true,  had  nearly  dried  during  her 
weary  journey  of  several  miles,  but  of  course  it  was  very 
far  from  being  in  a  condition  for  her  to  make  her  appear- 
ance in  the  streets  of  a  crowded  town.  She  then  be- 
thought herself  of  a  purse  of  money  containing  bank 
bills  to  a  considerable  amount  and  a  small  quantity  of 
gold,  which  she  had  brought  with  her  from  home,  in 
case  that  she  or  Mason  should  need  it.  Had  she  been 
robbed  of  this  ?  or  had  the  paper  money  been  rendered 
worthless  in  consequence  of  the  soaking  it  must  have 
received? 

"  With  trembling  hands  she  searched  her  pocket — the 
purse  was  still  there.  The  paper  had  stuck  together,  and 
was  of  course  completely  saturated ;  but  having  been 
tightly  rolled,  a  short  exposure  to  the  sun,  which  now 
shone  brightly,  soon  restored  it  to  its  original  condition. 
Thus  she  was  well  supplied  with  cash  for  her  immediate 


STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  379 

necessities ;  for  the  notes  amounted  to  some  hundreds  of 
dollars. 

"  She  therefore  entered  the  town,  and  urged  by  the 
necessities  of  her  position,  sought  out  a  boarding-house^ 
and  by  liberal  payment  in  advance  obtained  lodgings. 
Wearied  and  distracted,  overwhelmed  with  misfortune, 
prostrated  in  body  and  mind,  and  almost  in  despair,  she 
kept  her  room  during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  re- 
tired early  to  rest. 

"  How  she  had  so  long  managed  to  bear  up  is  a  won- 
der to  me;  but  in  the  morning  she  found  herself  very 
unwell,  and  was  before  many  hours  in  the  delirium  of  a 
raging  fever. 

"  For  several  days  she  was  insensible  to  all  that  passed; 
but  she  at  length  showed  symptoms  of  convalescence, 
and  then  she  found  that,  fortunate  for  once  in  her  life, 
she  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  kindly-natured  person, 
in  the  landlady  with  whom  she  had  taken  lodgings.  Her 
money  had  not  been  touched — the  good  woman  of  the 
house  having  personally  defrayed  every  expense  attend- 
ing her  illness.  It  is  true,  she  had  seen  that  the  poor 
patient  had  plenty  of  money  in  her  own  possession,  when 
she  had  at  first  taken  lodgings  of  her,  and  therefore  she 
was  well  satisfied  that  she  could  reimburse  herself  in  the 
event  of  her  lodger's  death — and  likewise  that  in  the 
event  of  her  recovery  she  would  be  reimbursed.  How- 
ever, as  things  go,  it  was  altogether  fortunate  that  she,  a 
strange,  lone  woman,  in  such  a  condition,  had  not  lost 
her  little  stock  of  money. 

"  When  she  grew  well,  she  formed  a  settled  conviction, 
at  all  hazards,  to  hunt  Mason  throughout  the  country, 
with  the  object  of  compelling  him  to  acknowledge  her 
as  his  wife,  and  to  restore  her  the  child.  She  could  not 
find  it  in  her  heart,  even  now,  to  denounce  him  as  her 
would-be  murderer,  and  she  felt  so  deeply  the  sense  of 
her  degradation,  that  she  could  not  make  known  her 
condition  to  her  friends  in  New  York  or  elsewhere — not 
even  to  her  mother. 

"  With  the  utmost  frugality  she  husbanded  her  re- 


880  THE  OLD  DOCTOR;  OR, 

sources,  and  so  managed  to  support  herself  for  many 
months,  tracing,  as  she  informs  me,  the  track  of  her  hus- 
band from  place  to  place ;  occasionally  losing  all  clue  for 
weeks — even  for  months — and  then  discovering  it  again, 
and  renewing  her  search. 

"  So  time  passed  away,  until  at  length  she  discovered, 
by  means  which  I  cannot  retail  at  length  in  the  pages  of 
a  letter  which  already  consists  of  a  wonderful  heap  of 
sheets, — that  Mason  had  gone  off,  actuated,  seemingly,  by 
the  freak  of  the  moment,  to  California,  and  thither, 
although  her  resources  were  greatly  reduced,  she  resolv- 
ed to  follow  him. 

She  still  had  more  than  sufficient  money  left  to  pay 
her  passage,  besides  a  quantity  of  valuable  jewelry  upon 
her  person,  which  she  disposed  of  before  starting,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  the  wedding-ring,  which  she  had 
had  first  placed  as  she  thought  in  good  faith,  upon  her 
finger ;  which  she  had  subsequently  learned  to  consider 
the  symbol  of  her  shame,  but  which  she  had  never  had 
the  courage  to  renounce — and  which  she  now  considered 
to  be  again  truly  symbolical  of  her  lawful  union  with 
her  husband — her  husband  still,  brutal  and  degraded 
though  he  was. 

"  With  the  amount  of  money  gained  by  this  disposal 
of  her  jewels,  she  landed  in  California.  Her  passage 
having  cost  her  nearly  all  the  money  she  was  possessed 
of  besides,  and  she  had  traced  Mason  to  some  mining 
grounds  in  the  vicinity  of  Stockton.  Thither  she  was 
proceeding  when  I  at  first  saw  her  on  board  the  steam- 
boat at  Sacramento,  and  on  arriving  at  Stockton,  she 
quickly  discovered  the  place  frequented  by  Mason.  It 
was  a  low  hotel  in  the  city,  the  chief  supporters  of  which 
were  rowdies,  blacklegs,  and  gamblers ;  and  it  was  whis- 
pered that  sometimes  it  was  a  lurking-place  for  thieves 
and  murderers.  Undaunted  and  resolute  in  her  purpose ; 
careless,  as  she  assured  me,  alike  of  life  or  reputation, 
she  proceeded  alone  to  this  den  of  wickedness. 

"  When  she  entered  it,  she  was  astonished  to  find  that 
a  violent  noise,  as  of  persons  in  high  altercation,  waa 


STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   MY   JOURNAL.  381 

suddenly  stilled,  and  an  appearance  of  horroi  seemed  to 
pervade  the  features  of  the  occupants  of  the  bar-room, 
who  were  grouped  together  over  a  prostrate  form,  while 
two  or  three  attempted  to  retain  in  their  grasp,  a  man 
whose  features  were  distorted  by  violent  passion,  and 
who  suddenly  sprung  from  their  grasp,  and  with  a  loud 
yell  of  mingled  fear,  triumph,  and  defiance,  ran  away 
at  the  top  of  his  speed,  flourishing  a  bowie  knife  wildly 
over  his  head  as  he  pursued  his  way  towards  the  open 
country. 

"  No  one  attempted  to  follow  him  ;  but  three  or  four 
persons  gruffly  asked  her  what  she  wanted  there. 

"  '  This,'  said  they,  'is  no  place  for  women,  and  if  you 
want  money,  my  good  woman,  you  had  better  take  your- 
self oif  to  some  place  where  you  are  more  likely  to  get  it.' 

"  What  more  they  said,  she  did  not  hear,  for  in  the 
figure  lying  prostrate  on  the  floor,  his  life-blood  fast 
ebbing  away  from  a  deep  wound  in  his  side,  she  recog- 
nized Mason. 

"  Eegardless  of  all  that  had  occurred ;  forgetful  of  the 
deception  he  had  been  guilty  of;  forgetful  of  his  deser- 
tion, of  his  attempt  to  murder  her;  forgetful,  for  the 
moment,  even  of  his  child,  whose  image  was  almost  om- 
nipresent before  her  eyes,  she  flung  herself  upon  the 
prostrate  form,  almost  shrieking  out — 

"  '  Edward,  my  husband — speak  to  me — speak  to  your 
Mary — to  your  wife.  O  God !  he  is  dead ! ' 

"She  fainted  ;  and  as  she  supposes,  was  borne  by  the 
woman  of  the  house,  for  there  was  a  female  president 
even  of  this  wretched  den,  to  a  bed-room,  in  which  she 
found  herself  when  she  recovered  her  senses. 

"  The  woman  was  in  the  room,  and  she  gruffly  but 
kindly  asked  her,  if  she  was  better. 

"  Mary  replied  that  she  was,  and  desired  to  be  taken 
to  her  husband ;  tremblingly  inquiring  whether  he  was 
still  alive. 

"  The  hotel -keeper's  wife,  perhaps  touched  with  some 
womanly  sympathy,  replied  that  she  would  see  wha* 
could  be  done.  She  left  the  bed-room,  and  shortly  re- 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR;    OR, 

turned,  saying  that  Jackson  was  perfectly  sensible,  and 
wished  to  see  his  wife  alone. 

"  'Thank  God  for  that!'  said  Mary,  as  she  hurriedly 
followed  the  landlady  into  the  apartment  occupied  by 
the  wounded  and  dying  man. 

"Mason  was  lying  on  the  bed,  gasping  faintly  for 
breath.  He  gazed  at  Mary  with  a  look  in  which  terror 
and  wonder  appeared  to  be  mingled.  At  length  he  said, 
feebly — 

"  '  Mary — have  you  risen  from  the  dead  to  confront  me, 
your  murderer,  now  that  my  last  hour  is  at  hand  ?  Or 
can  it  be  possible  that  you  are  still  living  ?' 

"  '  I  am  living,  Edward,  and  still  am  your  wife.  Oh, 
Edward  !  as  you  hope  for  mercy,  tell  me  where  are  the 
papers  which  acknowledge  my  marriage  with  you  ?" 

"  The  dying  man  appeared  to  take  no  heed  of  this  re- 
quest ;  but,  still  gazing  earnestly  through  his  filmy  eyes 
— for  the  hand  of  death  was  already  upon  him — he  said : — 

" '  Mary,  I  am  dying,  and  h — 11  with  all  its  horrors  awaits 
me.  I  sought  to  murder  you,  but  I  was  mad — a  fiend 
led  me  on,  and  since  then  you  have  haunted  me  by  night 
and  by  day,  and  I  have  seen  you  in  the  spirit,  beckoning 
me  to  come  to  you,  although  a  yawning  gulf  of  fire  was 
between  us,  that  I  could  not  overleap.  Can  these  visions 
have  been  but  dreams  ?' 

"  '  Dreams,  Edward,  but  dreams,'  replied  Mary.  '  Ah 
you  have  done  to  me  I  forgive ;  but  Edward — my  hus- 
band— tell  me  where  is  my  child  ?' 

"  '  The  child  I  drowned,'  replied  Mason.  '  His  body 
rests  in  the  Hudson,  and  his  pure  spirit  has  gone  where 
yours  will  rejoin  him,  Mary — but  his  father's  never — .' 

"Mary  told  me  she  did  not  recollect  what  subsequently 
passed,  for  as  she  heard  Mason  speak  of  her  child's  hap- 
less, cruel  fate,  she  swooned  away.  When  she  recovered 
herself,  her  husband  was  raving,  and  in  an  agony  of  ter- 
ror. Several  persons  were  holding  him  down  in  the  bed, 
using  all  their  exertions  to  control  him.  She  drew  near 
the  bed  in  the  hope  of  pacifying  him,  for,  although  he 
had  been  guilty  of  so  many  and  great  sins  towards  her, 


STRAY   LEAVES   FKOM    MY  JOURNAL.  383 

Ai3  still  remembered  her  early  love,  and  believed  his  last 
great  si  us  to  have  been,  as  he  said,  committed  in  a  mo- 
ment of  insanity ;  but  the  sight  of  her-  threw  him  into 
still  more  fearful  convulsions.  He  fancied  she  had  arisen 
from  the  grave  to  confront  him,  and  to  charge  him  with 
the  crime  of  murder  before  the  Great  Judge,  and  with 
the  most  horrid  shrieks  and  the  most  awful  curses  upon 
his  lips,  he  expired. 

"  It  is  needless  for  me  to  repeat  what  followed.  The 
body  of  the  wretched  man  was  interred  by  his  comrades, 
and  Mary  prepared  to  leave  Stockton — the  thought  of 
the  place  being  hateful  to  her. 

"  As  she  was  about  to  take  her  departure,  the  old  wo- 
man placed  a  small  box  in  her  hand,  saying  :— 

"  '  After  you  fainted,  and  before  Jackson  was  seized 
with  them  awful  convulsions,  he  called  me  into  the  room 
to  help  you.  "  Mother,"  he  said,  "  I  shan't  see  the  poor 
creature  again.  Promise  me,  a  dying  man — that  you 
will  give  her  this  box  ;  it  contains  some  papers  that  will 
be  useful  to  her,  poor  thing :  and  mind,  mother,  don't 
let  the  boys  know  anything  about  it." ' 

"  The  old  woman,  as  it  appears,  gave  the  required  pro- 
mise ;  and,  almost  unconsciously,  Mary  clutched  it  in  her 
hand  as  she  left  the  house. 

"  When  she  recovered  in  some  measure  from  the 
stupor  into  which  this  last  shocking  meeting  with  her 
husband  had  thrown  her,  she  examined  the  contents  of 
the  box,  and  found  that  it  contained  the  papers  proving 
her  marriage,  and  also  a  bank  book,  for  a  very  consider- 
able amount  of  money  placed  in  a  bank  at  San  Francis- 
co, in  the  name  of  Mason. 

"  She  was  about  proceeding  thither,  when  her  atten 
lion  was  arrested  by  the  advertisement  I  had  caused  to 
be  put  in  the  papers,  and  amazed,  yet  overjoyed  at  the 
announcement  of  my  presence  in  California,  she  hastened 
hither  to  meet  me.  We  leave  in  a  day  or  two  for  San 
Francisco,  whither  Mary  will  go  to  look  after  the  money 
left  her  by  her  worthless  husband,  and  I  to  attend  to  the 
business  I  left  undone  on  my  last  visit." 


384  THE   OLD   DOCTOR. 


This  is  all  that  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  give  to  the 
reader,  of  the  voluminous  and  extraordinary  letter  I  re- 
ceived from  Miss  T . 

I  have  now  related  all  that  I  know  myself  of  one  of 
the  most  singular  episodes  that  have  occurred  to  me  in 
the  course  of  a  long  and  eventful  practice. 

I  have  only  to  add  that  on  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  I 

hastened  to  inform  Mrs.  W of  the  existence  of  her 

daughter,  and  also  to  tell  her  that  she  had  been  a  law- 
fully married  woman,  and  was  now  a  widow  ;  but,  alas  I 
a  childless  one. 

Mrs.  W wrote  to  Mary,  as  did  I  likewise,  and  she 

was  persuaded  to  return  home.  The  money  left  her  by 
Mason,  amounted  to  upwards  of  ten  thousand  dollars ; 
and  on  that  the  widow  and  her  mother  could  live  com- 
fortably, but  Mary  has  determined,  she  says,  never  to 
marry  again. 

She  could  not  endure  the  idea  of  continuing  to  live 
near  the  scene  of  her  early  troubles,  and  she  and  her 
mother,  shortly  after  her  return  from  California,  removed 
to  a  western  city  ;  where  Mary  still  resides,  I  believe. 
The  mother  died  about  six  months  since. 

Miss  T is  still  carrying  on  business  in  Sacramento. 

and  thriving  astonishingly  ;  and  is,  I  have  heard,  about 
to  get  married  to  a  gentleman  who  resides  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Sonora ;  but  this  may  be  only  a  report. 

Thus  ends  the  narrative  of  the  MYSTERIOUS  PATIENT. 


THK  END. 


000  131  289     1 


maam/mem 


